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THE 
ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

AND  OTHER  ESSAYS 
R.  M.  WENLEY 

Professor  of  Philosophy 
in  the  University  of  Michigan 


Hi3 

RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

22n;»  (Soriiaffl  9»0b 

BOSTON 


Copyright,  1913,  by  Richard  G.  Badger 


All  Rights  Reserved 


The  Gorham  Press,  Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


h 


n  ... 


I.  M. 

J.  M.  W. 

(1892-1911) 

Opianda  mors  est,  sine  metu  mortis  m§rt 


464 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

THESE  papers  must  be  taken  for  what 
they  are, —  occasional  lectures  and  ad- 
dresses. The  Anarchist  Ideal  was  read 
to  Quadrangle  and  to  The  Club,  Ann 
Arbor  (1910).  Plutarch  and  His  Age  is  sub- 
stantially one  of  the  Carew  Lectures,  delivered 
before  Hartford  Theological  Seminary,  Hartford, 
Connecticut  (1899).  The  Movement  Towards 
*  Physiological '  Psychology  was  presented  to  the 
Academy  of  Medicine,  Detroit,  Michigan  (1907). 
Heredity  and  Education:  Some  Facts  and  Some 
Guesses  was  read  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the 
Michigan  Schoolmasters'  Club  (1909).  The 
University  in  the  United  States  is  the  substance  of 
an  address  to  The  Circle,  Harrogate,  Yorks,  Eng- 
land (1906). 

The  title  paper  Is  printed  for  the  first  time. 
The  others  have  appeared  respectively  in  The 
New  World  (Boston;  June,  1900)  ;  The  Popular 
Science  Monthly  (New  York;  May,  July,  August, 
September,  1908)  ;  The  Journal  of  the  Michigan 
Schoolmasters^  Club  (Ann  Arbor;  March,  19 10)  ; 
and  The  University  Review  (London;  May, 
1907). 


6  PREFATORY  NOTE 

I  may  add  that,  just  as  the  sheets  were  passing 
through  press,  I  had  an  opportunity  to  examine 
Mr.  F.  M.  Cornford's  From  Religion  to  Philoso- 
phy,  a  Study  in  the  Origins  of  Western  Speculation 
(London,  19 12).  This  vigorous  work  serves  to 
show  that  the  ideas  after  which  I  had  been  grop- 
ing —  often  blindly  enough  —  four  years  ago,  in 
the  second  part  of  the  title  paper,  are  by  no  means 
devoid  of  basis. 


CONTENTS 
I 

PAGE 

The  Anarchist  Ideal 9 

II 

Plutarch  and  His  Age 72 

III 

The    Movement    Towards    'Physiolog- 
ical' Psychology 117 

IV 

Heredity  and  Education:  Some  Facts 
and  Some  Guesses 189 

V 
The  University  in  the  United  States  230 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Mist  is  under  and  mist  above,  .  .  . 
And  we  drift  on  legends  for  ever, 

Ullam  Appietatem  ant  Lentulitatem 
valere  apud  me  plus  quam  ornamenta 
virtutis  existimasf 

ANARCHIST  utoplanism  is  no  recent 
importation  from  bureaucratic  Russia 
or  volatile  Italy.  Were  it  needful  to 
drive  this  platitude  home,  one  could  cite 
Emerson,  with  his  '*  the  timidity  of  our  public 
opinion  is  our  disease,  or  shall  I  say,  the  public- 
ness  of  opinion,  the  absence  of  private  opinion  " ; 
or  Thoreau  On  the  Duty  of  Civil  Disobedience, 
with  his  "  I  quietly  declare  war  with  the  State 
after  my  fashion  ...  it  must  always  be  unpatri- 
otic to  take  your  Government's  side  against  your 
country;  "  or  even  Herbert  Spencer,  drab  by  com- 
parison, with  his  "  Government,  begotten  of  ag- 
gression and  by  aggression,  ever  continues  to  be- 
tray its  original  nature  by  aggression."  These  be 
opinions  of  yesterday.  On  the  other  hand,  an- 
archist sentiment  runs  back  to  the  dim  verges  of 
Greek  history.     So  long  as  mankind  has  been  prone 

9 


10  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

to  idealise,  so  long  some  men  could  not  but  ex- 
claim, "  Each  of  us  is  a  world's  history  for  him- 
self ...  we  are  free  from  what  we  are  rid  of." 
The  perpetual  emigration  of  fact  to  hope,  the  im- 
migration, almost  as  perpetual,  of  hope  to  fact, 
Imply  no  less.  And  It  is  Important  to  note  that  we 
uncover  a  contrast,  not  between  an  *  eternal  yea  ' 
and  an  '  eternal  nay,'  not  even  between  a  temporal 
*  yea  '  and  an  eternal  '  nay,'  but  between  a  tem- 
poral and  an  eternal  *  yea.'  Whether  we  revert 
to  the  Cynics,  the  Stoics,  the  Anabaptists,  the  Puri- 
tans and  Locke,  the  Virginians,  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury Radicals,  hypnotised  by  Rousseau  (whom 
Plutarch's  Lycurgus  misled),  or  to  contemporary 
propagandists,  protestantism  and  Insurgency  — 
that  Is,  revolt  against  present  institutions  and  legal- 
ities —  characterise  all.  And,  at  the  moment,  the 
temporal  element  jostles  us  with  such  insistent 
familiarity  that  we  cannot  place  reliance  upon  our 
own  judgment.  Accordingly,  we  may  obtain  a 
juster  view  If  we  drop  current  controversies,  and 
return  to  a  past  where  we  can  observe  the  conflict 
without  partlzanship,  undismayed  by  the  apostles  of 
denial,  unpersuaded  by  the  subtle  charm  of  the 
laudator  temports  acti.  Besides,  thanks  to  the 
simplicity  of  their  economic  arrangements,  as  well 
as  to  their  intellectual  curiosity,  there  is  a  profound 
sense  in  which  we  may  venture  to  reaffirm,  that 
"  the  Greeks  walk  in  light." 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  ii 


Readers  of  Plutarch  will  recall  that,  In  his 
Life  of  Solon,  he  makes  the  sage  distinguish  be- 
tween an  Ideal  order  and  a  practicable  system  of 
law,  between  a  perfect  scheme  and  a  workable 
compromise  designed  to  meet  a  special  situation. 

"  Yet,  though  Solon  refused  the  government,  he 
was  not  too  mild  In  the  affair:  he  did  not  show 
himself  mean  and  submissive  to  the  powerful,  nor 
make  law  to  pleasure  those  that  chose  him.  For 
where  It  was  well  before,  he  applied  no  remedy, 
nor  altered  anything,  for  fear  lest 

Overthrowing  altogether  and  disordering  the  state, 

he  should  be  too  weak  to  new-model  and  recom- 
pense It  to  a  tolerable  condition;  but  what  he 
thought  he  could  effect  by  persuasion  upon  the 
pliable,  and  by  force  upon  the  stubborn,  this  he 
did,  as  he  himself  says. 

With  force  and  justice  working  both  in  one. 

And,  therefore,  when  he  was  afterwards  asked 
If  he  had  given  the  Athenians  the  best  laws  that 
could  be  given,  he  replied,  *  The  best  they  could 
receive.'  .  .  .  Solon,  fitting  his  laws  to  the  state 
of  things,  and  not  making  things  to  suit  his  laws 
.  .  .  ordered  the  Areopagites  to  examine  how 
every  man  got  his  living,  and  chastise  the  idle.** 


12  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

As  elsewhere,  so  here,  Plutarch  Is  anything  but 
critical.  Still,  there  Is  no  good  reason  to  doubt 
that,  even  In  the  first  decade  of  the  sixth  century, 
men  had  noted  vaguely  the  contrast  between  ideal 
and  actual  systems,  destined  to  exert  such  potent 
Influence  on  the  fortunes  of  the  race  later.  In 
Greece,  Rome,  post-Reformation  Europe,  and  the 
United  States  of  America.  Nevertheless,  we 
have  every  reason  to  suspect  that  the  perfect  sys- 
tem of  Solon's  vision  belonged  to  a  divine  rather 
than  to  a  human  world.  For,  although  the  con- 
ception of  Nomos,  unknown  to  Homer,  had  been 
formulated,  hazily  enough,  perhaps,  yet  the  Ho- 
meric notion  of  Themis,  meaning  the  Goddess  of 
Justice,  and  not  prescriptive  as  opposed  to  statute 
law,  continued  to  permeate-  the  Greek  mind  for 
at  least  a  century  and  a  half.  Many  winds  were 
to  ruflle  the  Piraeus  ere  the  opposition  between 
Nomos  and  Phusis,  the  law  of  the  Legislature  and 
the  law  of  Nature,  could  set  Issues  that  still  sur- 
vive —  and  shout  —  In  the  Ideal  of  latter-day 
Anarchism. 

Like  others  elsewhere  In  all  ages,  the  Greeks  of 
the  period  '  before  the  war  '  were  swayed  by  many 
motives  In  moral  conduct.  Thus,  I  suppose,  they 
sometimes  anticipated  tangible  rewards,  for  judi- 
cious observance  —  human  amity,  divine  favour 
may  be;  or  again,  with  the  better  sort,  the  vulgar- 
ity of  excess,  possibly  the  aesthetic  measure  of  pro- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  13 

priety,  told  Its  tale ;  or,  in  other  cases,  *  legal '  mor- 
ality, customary  usage,  and  the  like,  pointed  the 
strait  gate;  or,  once  more,  the  pleasure  of  esteem 
and  the  horror  of  public  odium  may  have  influ- 
enced not  a  few.  But,  whatever  the  immediate 
impulse,  reason  had  not  come  to  strip  motives  bare, 
to  wag  scornful  finger  at  their  lack  or  surplusage. 
Hellas  had  not  felt  the  joy  and  terror  of  holding 
the  mirror  up  to  her  own  nature.  The  experience 
was  nigh,  however.  The  keen  stimulus,  destined 
to  tempt  Athens 

"  To  cast  the  kingdoms  old 
Into  another  mould," 

overtook  her  almost  like  a  thief  in  the  night. 
Emotion  ran  high  in  the  pregnant  years  of  the 
Persian  war.  Thereafter,  as  with  Elizabethan 
England,  national  consciousness  knew  itself;  the 
responsibilities,  triumphs  and  makeshifts  of  em- 
pire forced  new  phases  of  justice  and  injustice  upon 
the  citizen.  At  length,  the  mysterious,  cloud- 
capped  righteousness  of  ^schylus  stepped  down 
from  Olympus  to  inhabit  the  Pnyx.  The  Just  and 
the  Unjust  Arguments  of  Aristophanes  were  no  ab- 
stract personifications  bred  by  poetic  license,  but 
transcripts  of  *  Causes  '  debated  hourly  and  every- 
where by  the  facile,  eager  Athenians.  Briefly,  an 
age  of  transition  was  sweeping  Greece,  Attica  par- 
ticularly.    As  often  since,  plain  men  were  puzzled 


14  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

by  "  the  decay  and  death  of  a  regulative  system 
no  longer  fit,  before  another  and  fitter  regulative 
system  has  grown  up  to  replace  it.'*  The  '  in- 
tellectuals '  proclaimed  the  dizzy  matter  without 
compunction  and  without  thought  for  the  morrow. 
Hippias,  as  Plato  reports,  put  the  question  in  a 
nutshell :  "  All  of  you  who  are  here  present  I 
reckon  to  be  kinsmen  and  friends  and  fellow-citi- 
zens, by  nature  and  not  by  law;  for  by  nature  like 
is  akin  to  like,  whereas  law  is  the  tyrant  of  man- 
kind, and  often  compels  us  to  do  many  things 
which  are  against  nature."  Law,  the  issue  of 
human  convention,  is  the  source  of  bane ;  but  '  Na- 
ture,' decked  in  sweet  simplicity,  offers  the  anti- 
dote. Therefore,  appeal  to  something  higher  than 
law  excuses  revolt. 

When  we  come  to  search  for  foregleams  of 
recent  Anarchism  in  this  hellenic  movement,  we 
find  that  three  '  moments '  sway  its  immediate 
history.  They  are:  prst^  the  Sophists  (especially 
Gorgias  and  Hippias,  so  far  as  evidence  permits 
us  to  affirm  now);  second,  Socrates;  third,  the 
Cynics.  Everyone  is  aware  that  Socrates  was  in- 
comparably the  most  important  for  the  progress  of 
theory  and  practice  alike.  Accordingly,  he  must 
occupy  the  centre  of  our  stage.  But,  even  so,  he, 
and  the  Sophists,  will  appear  as  forerunners  of 
Antisthenes  and  his  kind. 

(i)   Gorgias  of  Leontini,  a  small  town  nearby 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  15 

Syracuse,  arrived  at  Athens,  on  an  embassy,  in 
,427  B.  C.  It  is  on  record  that  he  impressed  the 
Athenians  profoundly  by  his  skill  in  public  speech, 
although  one  must  confess  that  such  tags  of  his 
talk  as  are  extant  render  it  difficult  to  see  why. 
He  was  a  professor  of  the  '  art  of  persuasion.' 
Like  his  race  always,  he  suffered  from  the  myopia 
of  anti-intellectualism ;  the  proper  study  of  Man- 
kind is  man  —  this  gave  the  substance  of  the  mes- 
sage. In  a  word,  opportunism  was  heralded  as 
the  rule  of  life.  Pat  questions  about  social  and 
political  affairs  —  the  ordinary  material  for  such 
discussions  ever  since  in  free  communities  —  were 
ventilated.  No  system  was  forthcoming  but  new 
and  seductive  ideas  found  mouthpiece.  More- 
over, there  were  Sophists  and  Sophists,  just  as, 
among  ourselves,  there  are  lawyers  and  lawyers, 
from  the  faithful  family  adviser  to  the  village 
shyster  who  will  do  anything  for  fifty  dollars. 
Their  business,  then,  was  adroit  treatment  of  cur- 
rent catchwords :  —  What  is  the  State  ?  What  is 
Law?  What  is  Justice?  What  is  Concord? 
More  theoretically,  What  is  Knowledge?  What 
is  Truth?  And,  as  a  necessary  accompaniment,  in 
times  when  printing  was  not,  they  polished  the  ve- 
hicle of  communication  —  words  and  the  spoken 
tongue,  or  correct  and  elegant  speech. 

It  is  evident  that  these  sophistic  problems  cover 
a  vast  range,  and  include  subjects  which,  in  modern 


1 6  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

practice,  would  be  assigned  to  inquirers  whose  sev- 
eral preparations  may,  usually  do,  diverge  greatly. 
Of  course,  this  is  a  consequence  of  the  minute  sub- 
division of  society.  And,  when  it  comes  to  ques- 
tions concerning  the  relation  of  the  citizen  to  the 
State,  one  contrast  assumes  paramount  importance. 
*  Private  '  life,  as  we  conceive  it,  had  small  place 
in  the  Greek  world.  Athens  was  the  Athenian's 
country,  the  source  of  his  most  elevating  tradi- 
tions; his  nation,  the  fount  of  his  most  inspiriting 
conceptions;  his  church,  the  guardian  of  his  finest 
hopes.  From  Athens  flowed  the  ideals  worth 
while,  the  opportunities  which,  just  because  he  was 
her  citizen,  rendered  him  the  highest  conceivable 
type  possible  for  man.  On  the  other  hand,  his 
State  claimed  his  time,  intelligence,  service  —  his 
entire  life  even  —  in  fair  compensation  for  the  in- 
estimable advantages  bestowed.  There  were  no 
men  then,  only  Athenians.  And,  if  this  attitude 
came  to  clear  consciousness  so  late  as  the  famous 
Funeral  Oration  of  Pericles,  there  is  a  sense  in 
which  it  had  been  formative  time  out  of  mind, 
and  all  over  Greece.  Plutarch's  account  of  the 
constitution  of  Lycurgus,  for  instance,  indicates 
the  '  private '  scope  of  Greek  legislation,  like 
some  applications  of  the  term  Draconian  among 
ourselves.  There  were  rules  for  personal  mor- 
ality, rules  for  physical  and  mental  discipline, 
rules  to  prevent  misbehaviour  of  adults  with  chil- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  17 

dren,  sumptuary  regulations,  marriage  regulations, 
and  civil  disabilities  based  on  matters  that  we 
should  deem  entirely,  or  almost  entirely,  our  own 
affair.  Inevitably,  this  attitude,  born  of  centuries, 
died  hard.  Even  so  late  as  Aristotle  we  find  the 
remark,  that  many  arrogated  to  themselves  a  com- 
plete knowledge  of  justice  on  the  narrow  basis  of 
acquaintance  with  the  code  of  their  own  city.  Ac- 
cordingly, law,  and  the  maxims  of  lawgivers,  came, 
not  only  to  possess  an  Importance,  but  also  to  take 
a  sweep  altogether  unfamiliar  to  us.  Plato  was 
perfectly  definite  on  this  point  years  ere  he  sat 
down  to  construct  his  ideal  or  his  real  State. 
'*  When  they  have  done  with  masters,  the  state 
again  compels  them  to  learn  the  laws,  and  live 
after  the  pattern  which  they  furnish,  and  not  after 
their  own  fancies.  .  .  .  These  are  given  to  the 
young  man,  in  order  to  guide  his  conduct  whether 
as  ruler  or  ruled;  and  he  who  transgresses  them  is 
to  be  corrected,  or,  in  other  words,  called  to  ac- 
count." It  is  easy  to  see,  then,  that  conditions 
were  assembled  for  the  pertinent  inquiry.  Is  the 
good  citizen  necessarily  the  good  man  —  are  le- 
gality and  morality  identical?  The  problem 
awaited  the  fateful  moment,  which  arrived  in 
season. 

Seeing  that  the  State  overshadowed  other  social 
institutions,  notably  the  family,  changes  within  its 
organisation  were  bound  to  entail  important  moral 


1 8  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

effects.  The  codification  of  Draco  (621  B.  C.) 
inevitably  produced  a  distinction  between  usage,  or 
custom  blessed  of  the  gods  (the  original  sense  of 
Dike),  and  statute  (its  secondary  meaning).  As 
is  obvious,  the  former  contained  an  implicit  sug- 
gestion of  the  '  higher  law '  that  came  to  be  ex- 
plicit afterwards  in  '  Nature.*  It  speaks  volumes 
for  the  strength  of  Greek  religious  sanctions,  inter- 
twined with  all  '  rightness,'  whether  customary  or 
legal,  that  open  conflict  between  the  implications 
of  '  higher '  and  '  lower '  justice  did  not  super- 
vene till  181  years  after  Draco,  in  Sophocles'  An- 
tigone (440  B.C.).  Naturally,  many  earlier 
references  *  tremble  on  the  verge,'  the  most  note- 
worthy, perhaps,  in  iEschylus'  (471  B.C.), 
Seven  Against  Thebes  (cf.  646  f.).  But  Sopho- 
cles was  no  anarchist,  he  rather  filled  the  role  of 
high  priest  in  poetry.  Yet,  it  is  to  be  remembered 
that,  two  years  before  the  production  of  Antigone, 
Euripides  gained  the  tragic  prize  for  the  first  time ; 
and,  with  him,  the  conflict  between  '  Nature  '  and 
'  Law,'  the  unwritten  '  higher  '  and  the  written 
*  lower '  command,  became  a  commonplace  of  the 
stage,  because  it  had  become  a  commonplace  of 
the  streets.  And  Euripides  was  of  one  blood 
with  the  Sophists. 

Carlyle's  famous  saying,  that  the  rise  of  philoso- 
phy marks  a  stage  of  decline  in  a  people's  life, 
gains  its  speciousness  from  the  history  of  Greek 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  19 

civilisation.  But  in  this,  as  In  much  else,  Greece 
was  unique.  Less  than  170  years  separate  Mara- 
thon from  the  biers  of  Aristotle  and  Alexander 
the  Great.  The  martial  rise  of  Hellas,  her  unex- 
ampled bloom  In  politics  and  art  and  literature 
and  philosophy,  her  unholy  civil  strife,  followed 
by  her  material  collapse,  and  then  by  her  spiritual 
supremacy  over  the  Mediterranean  world,  from 
Rome  to  Caesarea  PhlllppI, —  ay,  and  farther  East, 
from  Alexandria  to  Aspendus, —  Its  great  theatre 
still  bearing  witness  In  stupendous  ruin, —  succeed 
each  other  In  a  perfect  riot  of  bewildering  changes. 
When  Pericles  died  (429  B.  C.)  she  stood  at  the 
cross-roads  already,  the  old  order  sinking  apace, 
the  new  glimmering  fitfully.  The  sophistic  move- 
ment reflected  her  Indecision,  and  In  two  ways. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  revealed  the  compromises  and 
contradictions  that  beset  current  standards  in  prac- 
tical affairs:  on  the  other.  It  flogged  the  failure 
of  the  previous  '  physical  *  philosophy,  which  had 
cast  little,  If  any,  light  upon  the  clamant  problems 
of  ethics  and  politics.  But,  although  the  Sophists 
sowed  abundant  tares  of  doubt  In  the  harvests  of 
morals  and  society,  they  were  by  no  means  averse 
to  share  the  easy  fruits  of  both.  Compromise 
governed  them.  They  lacked  the  earnestness  to 
be  thorough  with  either.  Enamoured  of  super- 
ficial culture,  they  clutched  anything  that  came  to 
hand,  and,  indeed,  might  be  termed  the  Euphuists 


20  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

of  their  day.  Set  upon  gorgeous  form,  solid  mat- 
ter could  not  but  hamper  them.  In  the  first  place, 
then,  they  gave  free  tongue  to  the  incompatibility 
between  Individual  Independence  and  the  civic  ob- 
ligations, so  meddling  (as  we  should  say)  In  Hel- 
las. And  one  prominent  figure  at  least  —  HIppias 
' —  advocated  a  return  to  the  self-sufficiency  of 
'  Nature  '  almost  In  the  accent  of  Rousseau.  But, 
what  is  '  Nature  '  ?  This  asked,  a  second  turn  of 
the  sophistic  kaleidoscope  seems  to  occur.  The 
subtle  polemic  of  Gorglas  against  the  Eleatic  One 
—  that  Is,  against  the  Reality  wherein  all  things 
live  and  move  and  have  their  being  —  was  an  as- 
sault upon  an  objective,  physical  substratum  whence 
everything  (psychical  processes  like  the  rest) 
emerged.  Thus,  while  Gorglas  exorcised  the  oc- 
cult, he  stimulated  men  —  unconsciously  —  to 
obtain  a  positive  content  for  '  Nature  '  from  rea- 
son. The  One  was  not  abolished.  It  cannot  be 
abolished;  Its  venue  was  transferred  merely. 
'  Nature,'  now  as  the  '  wise  man,*  with  heavy 
stress  on  '  wise,'  displaced  the  entity  of  Parmen- 
Ides,  not  in  the  teaching  of  Gorglas  probably,  but 
in  the  pragmatic  voluntarism  of  his  greatest 
pupil,  Antlsthenes.  Accordingly,  the  Sophists 
advanced  Anarchy  by  two  steps.  They  bared 
the  transitory  and  local  character  of  many  *  legal ' 
obligations,  indicating  that,  as  a  consequence,  the 
demands  of  citizenship  led  often  to  infractions  of 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  21 

a  '  higher  '  law,  entangling  and  bemusing  individu- 
ality. This  is  the  negative  element.  But  no  neg- 
ative is  without  a  positive.  Hence,  they  also  ex- 
alted the  individual  and,  by  their  very  contempt 
for  the  old  objective  science,  hinted  that  the  ulti- 
mate regulative  order  might  be  enshrined  in  his 
person.  He  Is  the  *  higher,'  and  '  Nature,'  the 
Ideal,  may  derive  form  and  comeliness  from  him. 
(2)  The  second  force  In  the  Greek  movement 
towards  anarchist  Ideals  sprang  from  the  person 
of  Socrates.  And  here  we  must  have  heed  lest 
pitfalls  entrap  us.  Hear  the  note  of  tense  emo- 
tion that  vibrates  in  those  winged  words  from  the 
Crito :  "  Our  country  is  .  .  .  higher  and  holier 
than  mother  or  father  .  .  .  when  we  are  punished 
by  her  .  .  .  the  punishment  Is  to  be  endured  In 
silence.  .  .  .  Whether  in  battle  or  in  a  court  of 
law,  or  In  any  other  place,  the  citizen  must  do  what 
his  city  and  his  country  order  him.  .  .  .  This  Is 
the  voice  which  I  seem  to  hear  murmuring  in  my 
ears,  like  the  sound  of  the  flute  in  the  ears  of  the 
mystic."  No  anarchist  this.  Far  rather  a  just 
man,  who  preserved  intact  the  old  Greek  consecra- 
tion of  citizen  to  State,  with  Its  devout  assent  to 
the  will  of  the  tutelary  deity.  Nevertheless,  Soc- 
rates was  a  genius  who,  towering  above  lesser  folk, 
revealed  many  aspects,  not  simply  of  a  rich  char- 
acter, but  also  of  a  complicated  civilisation  redo- 
lent of  a  strange  past.     Hence,  If  a  man  will  only 


22  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

fathom  his  own  nature,  recalling  Its  representative 
function,  then  he  will  know  the  doctrine,  and,  as  a 
pendant,  know  how  to  serve  the  gods.  In  a 
word,  sanctions  tend  to  become  subjective  and  per- 
sonal with  Socrates:  to  this  extent  his  accusers 
were  right.  Individual  wisdom,  not  current  cus- 
tom, offers  the  clue  to  righteousness,  even  if  civic 
habituation  remain  indispensable  for  mastery  of 
self.  And  individual  wisdom  may  well  revert  to 
convictions  long  lost  by  the  general  consciousness. 
As  a  result,  then,  virtue  is  a  kind  of  self-knowl- 
edge. But,  even  so,  the  knowledge  of  virtue  is 
communicated  through  the  State.  Where  the 
legal  is  the  moral,  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  The 
State  has  a  single  reason  for  existence  —  to  en- 
noble men  morally.  But  the  State  manifests  it- 
self In  men;  hence,  "as  a  matter  of  justice,  the 
man  who  knows  not  what  he  ought  to  know  should 
be  content  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  those  who  know, 
and  be  taught."  Of  course,  appeal  is  thus  car- 
ried to  the  '  wise  man.'  Yet  this  type,  as  Socra- 
tes thought,  learns  wisdom,  not  simply  from  phil- 
osophy, but  through  habituation  in  society.  If 
only  the  wise  were  the  governors,  the  State  would 
be  regenerated.  With  reference  to  the  State  as  it 
is,  Socrates  fails  to  condescend  upon  specific  re- 
forms. And  a  society  whose  kings  are  philoso- 
phers is,  unfortunately,  no  prescription  for  a  so- 
ciety whose  leaders  must  continue  to  be  '  ward  poli- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  23 

ticians.'  In  the  Issue,  then,  despite  his  emphasis 
upon  education,  Socrates  did  not  reveal  how  the 
actual  Athens  might  once  more  merit  the  confi- 
dence shaken  so  sorely  by  the  trend  of  events. 
The  rift  between  city  and  citizen  was  not  stayed, 
far  less  closed. 

Inevitably,  then,  some  turned  to  Socrates'  '  wise 
man,'  forgetful  of  his  perfect  commonwealth. 
The  one  is  objective,  and  might  be  identified  with 
a  person,  or,  at  all  events,  with  certain  traits  of  a 
person,  especially  if  a  Socrates  walked  the  streets. 
The  other  is  a  city  not  built  with  hands, 

"  As  from  beyond  the  limit  of  the  world, 
Like  the  last  echo  born  of  a  great  cry." 

Preserve  the  Image  of  the  vital  teacher,  whom 
martyrdom  has  glorified:  heighten  his  goodness 
just  a  hair's  breadth  and,  more  than  likely,  you 
already  have  the  sage  as  he  ought  to  be,  able  to 
save  to  the  uttermost.  By  this  process  precisely, 
the  '  Imperfect '  Socratics,  picking  and  choosing 
according  to  their  hearts'  desire,  made  a  *  three- 
quarter's  man  '  of  Socrates,  and  then  took  this 
torso  for  an  incarnation  of  the  whqle  truth  in  moral 
conduct.  The  immediate  issue  was  not  doubtful. 
A  new  virtue,  unexampled  In  kind  possibly,  must 
be  created.  But,  the  moment  we  speak,  of  a 
*  new  '  or  *  unexampled  '  virtue,  a  paradox  assails 
us.     History  attests  that  the  dumb  masses  grasp 


24  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

the  external  accompaniments  of  morality  with  com- 
parative ease.  The  Internal  or  spiritual  mood  ap- 
peals to  the  few.  Consequently,  the  '  new  ' —  al- 
ways Internal  primarily  —  must  needs  embody  it- 
self with  reference  to  some  contemporary  move- 
ment, usually  unconscious  In  character,  ere  it  can 
win  to  power.  For  example,  Rousseau  and  Ben- 
tham  alike  taught  a  '  new  virtue.'  But,  in  both 
cases,  It  would  have  lain  cloistered  with  the  liter- 
ary or  philosophical  minority  had  it  not  found  local 
habitation  amid  French  social  and  British  political 
tendencies.  In  proportion  as  It  coincided  with  the 
drift  of  historical  circumstances,  in  economics  and 
legislation  mainly,  it  came  to  exercise  specific  in- 
fluence over  the  French  and  English  peoples. 
That  is,  the  '  new  '  grew  '  old  '  ere  it  attached 
adherents  at  large.  And  this  is  merely  to  assert 
that  aspects  of  the  dynamic  person  of  Rousseau, 
of  the  dynamic  doctrine  of  Bentham,  were  selected 
and  stereotyped  —  then,  and  then  alone,  they  ex- 
erted leverage.  Reduce  the  '  new '  to  a  static 
form,  and  It  may  succeed  with  the  crowd :  attempt 
to  preserve  it  entire  In  its  elusive  vitality,  and  it 
must  remain  the  secret  of  the  elect.  This  neces- 
sary process  had  remarkable  Illustration  In  the  case 
of  Socrates,  thanks  to  his  seminal  person.  So  far 
as  he  could  be  absorbed  into  certain  movements  of 
contemporary  society  — *  old  '  before  his  time  — 
he  left  an  Immediate  mark  in  the   Cynics  and, 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  25 

through  them,  a  profound  readjustment  of  moral 
values,  motivated  chiefly  by  the  Stoics  and,  later, 
by  the  Neo-Cynics  of  the  Roman  Empire.  On 
the  contrary,  in  so  far  as  his  total  person  was 
caught  and  transfigured  by  the  immortal  Plato,  the 
power  of  the  '  new  virtue  '  had  much  less  prac- 
tical effect.  For,  as  everyone  knows,  Plato's 
monumental  spirit  has  always  been  mediatorial, 
but  between  cultivated  men  only  —  men  who  can 
be  in  dead  earnest  without  suffering  themselves  to 
become  enemies. 

Postponing  any  attempt  at  analysis  of  the  Cynic- 
anarchist  ideal  for  the  moment,  and  confining  at- 
tention to  the  more  or  less  conventional  view  of 
Greek  history,  Socrates,  the  familiar  of  the  market- 
place, seems  to  have  impressed  his  disciples,  Plato 
conspicuous  by  exception,  in  three  ways.  His  en- 
durance, with  its  non-Greek  touches  of  asceticism; 
his  independence,  with  its  non-Greek  tendency  to 
rise  above  the  State;  and  his  '  inner  light,'  with  its 
non-Greek  hints  of  a  '  higher  law,'  set  over  the 
rules  of  the  city,  struck  them.  Here  his  real  orig- 
inality was  displayed,  they  thought. 

No  doubt,  the  hellenic  Ideal,  of  a  "  spiritual  na- 
ture unfolded  in  strict  unity  with  the  body,"  to 
adopt  Emerson's  phrase,  received  a  fatal  shock  in 
Socrates.  Not  that  he  set  the  ascetic  style.  But 
he  felt  the  burden  of  life  —  and  consciously.  In 
the    circumstances,    it    could    not    be    otherwise. 


26  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

There  was  something  to  be  borne ;  willy-nilly,  one 
must,  nay  ought  to,  bear  up  under  it.  Things  be- 
ing as  they  are,  endurance  enables  a  man  at  once 
to  command  and  to  release  his  inward  individu- 
ality. It  was  this  element  of  release,  of  freedom, 
that  appealed  to  the  Cynics  and,  through  them, 
came  to  be  a  transitive  force  in  hellenistic  concep- 
tions of  the  moral  life  afterwards.  The  Socratic 
implication  Is  that  the  highest  good  is  circum- 
scribed. It  Is  relative  to  events;  these,  in  turn,  must 
be  mended  or  ended.  According  to  this  interpre- 
tation of  Socrates,  the  Ideal  Inevitably  escapes  the 
group-life,  which  Is  always  snared  in  temporary 
entanglements.  Therefore,  good  becomes  the 
peculiar  privilege  of  the  individual,  as  the  Cynics 
and  Stoics  taught.  Abstract  the  Socratic  endur- 
ance from  the  State,  In  relation  to  which  alone  the 
Master  deemed  It  could  be  exercised,  and  it  offers 
a  means  of  escape  from  this  present  evil  world. 
Pointedly,  it  is  an  end  in  itself,  and  for  every 
man  by  himself.  At  this,  anarchy  Is  not  far  off. 
Nevertheless,  Socrates  never  carried  internalism 
to  such  extremes.  For  him  well-  and  ill-doing 
implied  specific  adjustments.  These  presupposed 
obedience  to  the  laws  of  the  city  as  the  *'  gift  of 
the  gods,  the  resolutions  of  wise  men."  But,  in 
the  absence  of  a  direct  Socratic  system,  independ- 
ence might  be  Interpreted  as  contempt  for  these 
very  civic  rules.     And  the  Cynics,  so  understand- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  27 

ing  it,  found  abundant  justification  of  anarchy* 
Thus,  in  respect  of  Socratic  endurance  and  inde- 
pendence, they  stereotyped  the  Master,  bringing 
him  down  to  an  obvious  level.  It  is  highly  signif- 
icant that  the  same  can  hardly  be  said  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  *'  inner  light." 

The  daily  duties  of  the  average  Greek  citizen 
had  a  character  of  their  own.  They  found  em- 
bodiment in  certain  ceremonial  observances,  in  the 
performance  of  obligations  to  the  city,  to  fellow- 
citizens,  and  to  the  hellenic  ethos;  as  such,  they 
sufficed  —  reflection  did  not  bite  into  them.  The 
avowed  cardinal  virtues  betray  this  openly.  In 
proportion  as  the  duties  were  specific  and  de- 
manded personal  obedience  or  devotion,  they  lim- 
ited the  scope  of  moral  activity  and,  likely  enough, 
the  liveliness  of  self-sacrifice.  For,  regular  con- 
formity might  simulate  piety,  obedience  justice, 
assertiveness  courage,  and  so  forth.  Thus,  we 
must  not  wonder  to  find  Socrates  facing  two  ways. 
On  the  one  hand,  he  often  emphasised  the  spirit 
as  against  the  cant  letter  of  moral  commonplace. 
And  the  point  to  be  noted  is  that,  in  this  contrast, 
his  reliance  upon  the  Daimon  was  essentially  an 
appeal  to  a  '  higher  law.'  Xenophon  presents  the 
case  with  some  detail  in  the  famous  fourth  chapter 
of  the  fourth  book  of  the  Memorabilia.  Here 
Socrates  retorts  upon  Hippias,  the  Sophist:  "  I  am 
in  a  chronic  condition  of  proclaiming  what  I  re- 


28  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

gard  as  just  and  upright."  And,  when  Hippias 
says :  "  I  do  not  catch  what  you  mean  by  lawful 
and  just,"  Socrates  explains  that  the  '  upright ' 
and  *  just '  are  the  '  lawful '  and  the  '  law-ob- 
servant,' adding,  however,  an  immediate  reference 
to  ''  certain  unwritten  lav/s,"  with  the  suggestion 
that  they  must  be  divine,  not  man-made.  This  is 
simply  the  contrast  between  human  motive 
(gnome)  arid  unforeseen  divine  agencies 
(Tuche),  made  familiar  by  Thucydides.  In  the 
course  of  the  subsequent  conversation,  these 
'  higher  laws  '  ai*e  specified  as  follows:  first,  It  is 
a  custom  everywhere  to  worship  and  reverence  the 
gods ;  second,  To  honour  parents  is  also  customary 
everywhere;  third.  So  is  prohibition  of  marriage 
between  parents  and  children;  fourth,  It  is  a  cus- 
tom universally  to  return  good  for  good,  and  kind- 
ness with  kindness.  Observe,  these  are  not  laws 
known  to  be  of  human  enactment;  they  originate  in 
the  *  nature  of  things,'  and  therefore  are  the  work 
of  the  gods.  This  reference  to  the  gods  serves 
to  show  that,  in  the  judgment  of  Socrates,  the  first 
provision  was  the  ground  of  the  others.  And 
Xenophon  takes  care  to  stress  this  by  the  declara- 
tion, put  on  the  lips  of  Hippias  at  the  close  of  the 
discussion:  "Yes,  Socrates.  In  all  these  cases,  I 
admit,  there  is  an  implication  of  divine  authority 
...  a  higher  than  human  type  of  legislator." 
Thus,  in  one  aspect  of  it,  the  Daimon  was  an 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  29 

Index  to  the  moral  attitude  maintained  by  Socra- 
tes. It  sealed  him  as  a  co-worker  with  the  gods, 
as  one  not  simply  attentive  to  their  ritualistic  wor- 
ship, but  rather  as  a  chosen  vehicle  of  their  veri- 
table spirit  —  and,  accordingly,  elevated  above 
'  common  '  law,  the  real  sting  In  the  charges  that 
led  to  his  condemnation.  Hence  the  doctrine,  that 
the  human  soul,  so  far  as  It  assimilates  Itself  to  the 
divine,  becomes  similarly  authoritative.  This  con- 
ception had  been  abroad  more  or  less  for  a  cen- 
tury at  least  and,  as  we  shall  see.  It  may  Intimate 
more  than  '  settled  opinion '  about  Greek  history 
permits  meantime.  Now,  the  practical  bearing 
of  such  self-likening  to  deity  needs  no  comment. 
Briefly,  the  Daimon  Is  the  living  witness  to  an  In- 
ternal revelation  from  the  gods  which,  being  di- 
vine, justifies  abrogation  or  extension  of  the  cus- 
tomary code  of  the  State. 

"  Therefore  a  new  conception  of  the  soul 
Springs  of  itself;  a  self-authority 
Within  the  reason,  self-condemnatory 
Indeed  (if  those  old  premises,  proved  false. 
Were  still  maintained  as  standpoint  of  debate), 
But  by  the  inward  dialogue  self-proved 
Final,  demonic,  In  best  sense  divine." 

Evidently,  it  Is  impossible  to  square  this  with 
Xenophon's  plain  contention, —  even  were  his  wish 
father  to  the  thought, —  that  Socrates  was  a  law- 


30  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

abiding  citizen,  a  man  of  '  orthodox  '  piety.  Pos- 
sibly, contemporary  conditions  help  to  unravel  the 
tangle.  The  inscriptions  of  the  age,  which  reflect 
the  popular  consciousness,  and  never  lie,  suffice  to 
prove  that  the  sanctions  of  religion  had  lost  vi- 
tality somewhat.  Conformity  was  Indeed  general, 
nay,  emphatic  to  the  point  of  reaction  or  obscur- 
antism. Yet,  formalism  had  marked  the  Greek 
for  its  own.  Vows  were  being  paid,  honours  were 
being  rendered  —  to  self  rather  than  to  the  divin- 
ities. Ancient  traditions  were  too  crude  for  re- 
adjustment to  the  best  mind  of  a  people  whose 
mental  alertness  has  become  proverbial.  The 
State,  reposing  upon  divine  authority,  slackened 
its  grip  as  Its  psychical  basis  receded  more  and 
more  into  the  impenetrable  darkness  of  a  mean- 
ingless past.  Socrates*  frequent  appeal  to  utility 
in  matters  ethical  appears  to  tell  that  he  had 
sensed  the  vanity  of  recourse  to  tradition  or  to 
statute.  But  he  was  too  tense  a  soul  by  far  to 
leave  morals  at  the  mercy  of  mere  prudential  cal- 
culation. Hence  the  "  inner  light  '*  of  the  Daimon 
did  not  consist  in  any  simple  return  to  a  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints,  or  in  a  fatuous  assertion  of 
an  "  eternal  not-ourselves  that  makes  for  right- 
eousness." On  the  contrary,  the  voice  he  con- 
tinually heard  murmuring  in  his  ears  seemed  to 
him  the  guardian  and  the  guarantee  of  a  new,  oh- 
jective   well-being.     Nay,    he   marked   an   epoch 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  31 

precisely  because  he  held  that  Reason  can,  and 
must,  Illuminate  morality  by  stating  Its  nature  In 
unequivocal  terms.  Accordingly,  the  ethical  reve- 
lation of  Reason,  backed  by  the  conviction  of  its 
religious  sanction,  constitute  at  once  his  originality 
and  the  secret  of  his  incalculable  influence. 

"  Might  I  not  in  converse  yet  explain  them 
The  loftier  definition  and  so  serve 
The  cause  of  clear  conception  in  the  mind 
By  leading  men  each  to  commune  alone 
With  self  and  so  experience  in  self  .  .  . 
The  truth-  assurance,  hear  the  voice  divine? 
For  thus  were  I  conclusive  of  mankind, 
The  continuity  of  other  men. 
Their   growth,    their   self-persuasion,    guarantee 
And  w^arrant  of  authority  as  truth: 
Outvi^ardly,  as  inwardly,  that  very  voice !  " 

This  attitude  embraces  two  factors.  On  the 
one  side,  in  its  Insistence  that  men  must  act  from 
the  highest  principle,  it  refers  to  a  social  whole 
wherein  the  many  share.  On  the  other  side.  In  its 
insistence  upon  the  necessity  for  rational  conscious- 
ness of  motives,  it  exalts  the  Individual,  and  tends 
to  minimise  the  element  of  goodness  present  even 
in  naive  respectability.  As  with  true  genius  al- 
ways, the  universal  and  the  Individual  confront 
each  other,  preferring  a  characteristic  demand  for 
a  four-square  reckoning.     In  the  person  of  Socra- 


32  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

tes,  the  Individual  went  under.  How  about  those 
who  took  his  name?  As  circumstances  then  were, 
the  obvious  Interpretation  of  his  doctrine  lay  In  a 
choice  between  the  two,  not  In  an  elucidation  of 
the  principle  of  their  Indivisible  unity.  Xenophon 
were  proof  enough,  and,  just  here,  he  misses  the 
'  historical '  Socrates !  Moreover,  thanks  again 
to  circumstances,  the  choice  could  hardly  fall  to 
fasten  upon  the  Individual  element.  For,  as  we 
all  know,  periods  recur  when  the  reformer,  de- 
spite his  Intent,  Is  fated  to  be  construed  as  if  he 
understood  his  favourite  text  —  whatever  Is  not 
of  faith  Is  sin  —  only  In  the  antlnomlan,  protestant 
sense.     This  was  to  be  the  sequel  now. 

(3)  Hence  Cynic  anarchism  merits  attention, 
not  as  a  system,  but  as  an  extreme  development  in 
practice.  It  pushes  the  Inner  logic  of  a  situation 
to  a  point  where  balance  goes  by  the  board.  The 
sophistic  movement,  and  the  political  confusion  of 
Greece  are  taken  to  warrant  the  dissolution  of  all, 
or  nearly  all,  social  bonds.  In  like  manner,  the 
endurance  of  Socrates  becomes  contemptuous  re- 
jection of  the  *  resources  of  civilisation; '  his  inde- 
pendence, bereft  of  ethical  intent,  turns  to  de- 
fiance ;  while  his  *  higher  law '  proves  a  naked  ap- 
peal to  untamed  '  Nature,'  and  his  confidence  in 
Reason  excuses  many  a  caprice.  But,  even  so. 
Cynicism  held  the  public  eye  for  a  time  and,  if 
we  are  to  do  it  justice,  in  our  effort  to  disentangle 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  33 

its  ideal,  we  must  see  it  in  the  light  of  its  environ- 
ment. 

Ere  we  proceed,  notice  that  our  knowledge  of 
the  sect  is  of  the  scantiest.  The  writings  have 
nigh  disappeared,  and  we  are  dependent  upon  late 
reports,  salted  with  gossip  and  scandal,  or  upon 
the  incidental  remarks  of  contemporaries  who  were 
inimical  or  contemptuous.  Nor  can  we  neglect 
another,  most  symptomatic,  fact.  None  of  the 
Cynic  leaders  were  Attic  by  nature,  one  alone  by 
nurture.  Nay,  they  came  from  the  fringes  of 
hellenic  culture.  Antisthenes,  the  founder,  had 
an  Athenian  to  father;  but  his  mother  was  a 
Phrygian  slave,  and  he  received  his  education  at 
the  Cynosarges,  the  school  for  the  base-born.  As 
for  the  rest,  they  recall  the  multitude  come  to- 
gether on  the  day  of  Pentecost  —  "  out  of  every 
nation  under  heaven."  Boeotia,  Cyrenaica,  Egypt, 
Galilee,  Lydia,  Pamphylia,  Paphlagonia,  Sicily, 
Northern  Syria,  and  Thrace,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  cities  of  the  Peloponnese,  contribute  their 
'quota.  In  a  word,  the  sacred  municipal  traditions, 
the  sobering  privileges  no  less,  must  have  sat  loose 
to  these  colonial,  slave  and  '  asianised  '  men,  some 
few  of  them  Metics,  but  most  mere  vagrant  tran- 
sients in  the  classical  centre  of  hellenic  achieve- 
ment, all  strangers  to  the  pure  Athenian  ethos. 
The  period  of  their  greatest  activity  covers  the 
hundred  years  after  the  death  of  Socrates,  that 


34  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Is,  the  fourth  century  B.  C.  Antisthenes,  the  first 
leader,  survived  Socrates  about  twenty-five  years; 
Diogenes,  his  pupil,  died  in  323  B.  C,  while  his 
disciple,  Crates,  the  third  and  last  real  leader, 
reached  the  height  of  a  considerable  influence 
shortly  after  the  Corinthians  placed  the  symbolic 
dog  of  Parian  marble  upon  the  grave  of  his  mas- 
ter. Thereafter  the  sect  seems  to  have  gone  to 
seed  in  mere  quixotry,  effrontery,  and  even  vile 
shamelessness,  and  is  lost  to  view  till  it  emerges, 
on  a  higher  level  than  ever,  perhaps,  in  the  Roman 
Empire,  where  we  find  its  greatest  preacher  in  the 
person  of  Epictetus.  This  later  development  no- 
wise concerns  us  now. 

With  the  possible  exception  of  Crates,  about 
whose  productiveness,  however,  we  know  next  to 
nothing,  Antisthenes  was  the  most  considerable 
representative  of  the  movement.  We  are  aware 
that  he  was  a  pupil  of  the  Sophists  and  of  Socra- 
tes successively.  Till  near  middle  life  in  all  likeli- 
hood,—  he  was  forty-five  when  Socrates  drank 
the  cup, —  he  sat  at  the  feet  of  Gorgias,  or  pur- 
sued a  career  of  the  regular  sophistic  type.  And 
it  is  only  on  the  dispersion  of  the  Socratic  circle, 
after  the  execution,  that  he  steps  forth  as  a  mis- 
sionary of  the  newest  individualism.  One  gives 
him  no  more  than  his  due  in  saying  that,  while 
his  pupils  and  later  followers  often  outdid  him  in 
hizarrerie    and    anti-intellectualism,    his    teaching 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  35 

constitutes  the  substantial  body  of  Cynic  doctrine, 
although  his  reputation  as  a  peripatetic  preacher 
appears  to  have  been  eclipsed  by  the  notoriety  of 
Diogenes,  his  success  as  a  tireless  proselytiser  by 
the  indefatigable  Crates.  In  any  case,  the  scien- 
tific theory  of  the  Cynics,  such  as  it  was,  belongs 
to  him.  We  need  not  dwell  upon  it  at  length 
now.  But  its  temper  Is  significant.  Its  anarchist 
intent  lies  on  the  surface.  A  precise  apposition 
was  instituted  between  percepts  and  concepts;  and, 
as  concerns  truth  or  validity,  the  presumption  was 
overwhelming  for  the  former,  the  thrust  of  all 
reasoning  punctured  the  latter.  For,  grant  that 
the  sensible  world  Is  the  only  real  existence,  and 
you  cannot  place  any  curb  upon  intellectual  anar- 
chy. Pertinent  theoretical  grounds  are  forth- 
coming for  the  most  destructive  conclusions. 
Every  man  Is  free  to  make  his  own  terms  with 
Destiny,  brilliant  irresponsibility  Is  the  rule  of  life. 
Thus,  replying  to  Xeniades,  his  reputed  owner, 
Diogenes  phrased  the  attitude  of  the  sect  in  an 
epigram.  When  Xeniades  inquired  how  he 
should  bury  him,  Diogenes  answered,  "  on  my 
face,  because,  In  a  little  while,  all  things  will  be 
turned  upside  down.''  For  the  Cynics,  as  for 
anarchists  always,  topsy-turveydom  Is  the  prelude 
to  the  realisation  of  the  ideal.  And,  whatever  the 
ideal,  the  tale  of  protest  runs  smoothly  enough. 
Men  are  blind  to  their  own  follies,  for,  they 


36  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

overlook  the  practice  of  virtue,  and  give  heed  only 
to  *  what  is  written.'  They  fail  to  see  that  wis- 
dom is  the  sole  good,  and  that  all  else  lies  at  the 
mercy  of  any  whim  of  Chance  ( Tuche) .  But  wis- 
dom has  no  existence  save  in  the  mind  of  the  indi- 
vidual. Consequently,  freedom  from  social  ties 
—  mere  encumbrances  — '  becomes  a  clamant 
necessity,  and  every  external  development  in  or 
from  society  must  be  viewed  as  irrelevant  to  the 
supreme  purpose  of  life.  The  wise  man,  who  as- 
pires to  goodness  must,  for  this  very  reason,  de- 
spise all  that  others  value.  The  higher  the  store 
set  by  popular  opinion  upon  aught,  the  greater  the 
need  for  Iconoclasm.  For,  the  resources  of  civi- 
lisation are  enlisted  in  a  gigantic  conspiracy  to  en- 
tice humanity  from  the  pursuit  of  true  virtue. 
The  leaders  of  modern  anarchism  have  no  other 
message:  as  Tolstoi  put  it,  *'  The  progress  of  man- 
kind is  not  a  means  but  an  impediment  to  the  reali- 
sation of  that  ideal  of  harmony  which  we  carry 
about  in  our  bosoms."  Therefore,  renounce, 
forego  the  goods  of  this  world,  if  you  would  be- 
gin to  approach  self-possession,  wherein  alone 
genuine  moral  mastery  consists.  Return  to  the 
original  purity  of  '  Nature.'  All  this  has  a 
strangely  familiar  ring,  thanks  to  Rousseau  and 
his  seed.  Did  not  our  own  Thoreau  make  phrases 
that  would  have  delighted  Diogenes?  The  gist 
of  the  matter  may  be  found  in  his  aphorism,  racy 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  37 

of  the  soil  of  New  England,  and  of  Its  great  festi- 
val. "  I  would  rather  sit  on  a  pumpkin,  and  have 
it  to  myself,  than  be  crowded  on  a  velvet  cushion." 
To  this  point,  we  have  followed  the  beaten 
track.  It  is  possible,  however,  that  some  sources 
of  Cynicism  still  escape  us.  We  know,  for  in- 
stance, that  modern  anarchism  presents  itself  under 
two  aspects.  On  one  side,  it  reverts  to  the  eco- 
nomic situation  consequent  upon  the  industrial  rev- 
olution and  upon  internationalism;  on  another,  it 
roots  deep  in  the  history  of  philosophy,  offering  a 
strange  blend  of  Anglo-French  nominalism  and 
German  idealistic  realism.  It  prescribes  a  Utopia 
to  cure  our  social  Ills,  and  constructs  this  from 
many,  even  contradictory,  doctrines.  Perhaps 
similar,  though  far  from  identical,  forces  underlie 
the  Cynic  movement.  Granting  that  we  shall 
trench  upon  uncertain  and  controversial  ground, 
especially  when  utoplanism  comes  in  question,  let 
us  attempt  no  more  than  a  footnote  to  history. 
At  worst,  we  may  reach  a  point  where  we,  or  the 
evidences,  become  muddled.  At  best,  we  may 
only  uncover  the  old  truth  that  fact  and  fiction  are 
bedfellows.  For,  even  history  has  been  taken  in 
the  act  of  Interference  with  reality. 

II. 

The   Persian   war   produced   severe    economic 
pressure  at  Athens.     But  this  was  not  a  conse- 


38  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

quence  of  the  mere  momentary  stress.  Rather, 
conditions  that  had  been  operative  for  centuries 
began  to  disclose  their  ultimate  sequel.  Time  out 
of  mind,  the  Greek  communities  had  fostered  their 
scanty  resources  in  isolation.  We  might  call  them 
cantons,  yet  with  many  deductions  from  the  Swiss 
organisation.  The  '  lie  of  the  land,'  with  its 
mountain  ranges,  set  natural  and  impassable 
boundaries,  so  much  so,  that  self-sufficiency  came 
to  be  the  dominant  ideal.  If  the  custom  and  law 
of  the  city  determined  the  ethical  outlook  of  the 
citizen,  then,  no  less,  domestic  olive-products  and 
wheat  and  wine  shaped  his  economic  relations. 
Independent  '  states '  could  be  counted  by  the 
dozen,  and  '  independence  '  reposed  upon  an  eco- 
nomic as  much  as  upon  a  political  foundation. 
But,  as  the  world  loomed  larger,  as  intercourse  by 
sea  acquired  safety,  regularity  and  importance,  and 
as  inter-city  leagues  were  negotiated,  the  old 
economic  simplicities  and  the  old  self-sufficiency 
met  rude  shocks.  Great  displacements  made  slow 
and  silent,  though  sure,  encroachments.  Never- 
theless, the  ancient  landmarks,  moral  and  material, 
did  not  vanish  completely.  On  the  contrary,  they 
remained  —  at  once  guides  and  obstacles.  In 
short,  the  agricultural  (or  land-holding)  basis, 
with  its  hoard  of  rustic  notions,  maintained  itself. 
The   commercial    adjustments   demanded   by   the 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  39 

price  of  *  empire  '  pivoted  upon  it  in  great  meas- 
ure. 

It  is  true,  of  course,  that  the  resources  of  civilisa- 
tion in  Greece  were  crude,  nay,  a  modern  magnate 
of  London  or  New  York  would  deem  them  ludi- 
crous, and  justifiably.  Pericles  stated  a  bare  fact 
when  he  said,  '*  We  are  lovers  of  beauty,  though 
with  thrift;  we  employ  wealth,  not  for  talk  and 
ostentation,  but  when  there  is  a  real  use  for 
it:"  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  A  Greek  ward- 
robe was  an  exiguous  affair,  like  a  Greek  dwell- 
ing. Food  was  plain  to  the  verge  of  parsimony; 
lighting  and  heating,  as  we  understand  them, 
did  not  exist;  the  arrangements  for  *  personal 
hygiene '  were  uncouth,  to  say  the  least.  In- 
deed, such  were  the  expedients  that  the  ordinary 
round  of  domestic  life  cannot  but  have  been  full 
of  discomfort.  But,  the  Greek  enjoyed  a  splendid 
compensation.  He  was  not  driven.  He  felt  no 
spur  to  toll  untimely  hours  for  provision  of  houses, 
clothes  and  food.  So,  when  the  necessity  for 
wealth  dawned  upon  him,  during  the  *  imperial ' 
period  at  Athens,  he  applied  silver  and  gold,  not 
to  the  evanescent  accompaniments  of  personal  com- 
fort, but  to  upbuilding  the  permanent  factors  of 
civilisation,  whereby  he  has  led  mankind  ever 
since.  We  lavish  millions  upon  a  private  resi- 
dence, almost  without  notice,  but  we  preen  our- 


40  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

selves  when  we  can  mention  thousands  for  a  public 
church.  The  Athenians  raised  the  Parthenon 
partly  because  Pericles  was  quite  content  with  an 
adobe  villa.  Always  poor,  Greece  never  pos- 
sessed the  means  to  pursue  '  big  business.*  Al- 
ways rich,  she  consecrated  her  '  treasure  '  to  the 
embellishment  of  the  Acropolis,  and  to  other 
mighty  works  still  eloquent  in  the  pathetic  appeal 
of  ruin. 

Accordingly,  it  is  not  surprising  that,  prior  to 
the  Persian  war,  commerce  played  a  subordinate, 
or  fitful,  part.  And  even  after  the  Peace  of 
448-45  B.  C,  when  Athens  undertook  her  marvel- 
lous pubHc  works  at  enormous  expense  proportion- 
ate to  her  funds,  the  old  ideals  of  citizenship 
tended  to  hamper,  if  they  did  not  wholly  thwart, 
the  free  development  of  private  enterprise  in 
trade.  As  time  passed,  the  two  interests  clashed 
more  and  more,  and  a  new  consciousness  awakened 
which  contributed  its  share  to  the  origins  of  the 
Cynic  movement.  While  we  cannot  allege  that 
the  ancient  opposition  between  oligarchy  and  de- 
mocracy was  done  away,  it  is  plain  that  the  Demos 
developed  a  fresh  spirit,  and  for  economic  reasons 
chiefly.  What  a  descent,  for  example,  from  Xan- 
thippus,  Themistocles,  Ephialtes,  and  even  Per- 
icles, to  Cleon  and  Cleophon;  from  the  magnani- 
mous man  in  the  Aristotelian  mould  to  a  '  smart 
Aleck*  of  a  tanner!     The  landed  aristocracy  and 


The  anarchist  ideal       41 

the  yeomanry  had  been  succeeded  by  the  "  mer- 
chants, carpenters,  workmen,  aliens,  foreigners, 
and  Islanders  "  of  the  Piraeus.  To  them  the  old 
Athens  mattered  little,  or  mattered  only  as  their 
Athens  held  command  of  the  sea  to  the  end  that 
profits  might  multiply  exceedingly.  Hence  the 
Peloponneslan  disaster,  culminating  In  the  Sicilian 
debacle.  Security  meant  larger  expenditure, 
larger  expenditure  meant  Industry  and  commerce, 
Industry  and  commerce  meant  aUen  Immigration, 
and  alien  Immigration  meant  a  transformation  of 
the  ancient  State.  As  the  Old  Oligarch  wisely  ob- 
served, "  When  we  have  a  naval  power  dependent 
upon  wealth,  we  must  be  slaves  to  our  slaves  per- 
force. In  order  that  we  may  collect  our  slave-rents 
and  let  the  real  slave  go  free.'*  Plutarch's  Per- 
icles serves  to  show  that  the  change  had  been  In 
progress  for  half  a  century.  Athens  moved  too 
fast  for  her  economic  basis  and,  as  a  consequence, 
the  age-old  values  broke  down.  The  citizen 
could  be  free  no  more,  because  his  State  was 
bound.  The  State  could  be  free  no  more,  because 
the  citizen  had  forgotten  that  freedom  Imposes 
hard  terms  upon  him  personally.  For,  freedom 
thrives  upon  large.  Impersonal  Issues,  and  takes  to 
hasty  flight  the  moment  self-seeking  shows  Its  face. 
And  here  the  rule  of  the  lesser  factor  had  sup- 
planted that  of  the  larger,  thanks  to  Inevitable 
economic  change:  this  accomplished,  the  pressure 


42  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

of  urban  life  offered  ample  evidence  in  support  of 
anarchical  doctrine.  The  idealism  engendered  by 
social  control  vanished  before  the  expediencies 
forced  upon  the  imperial  city  by  her  unprecedented 
economic  situation.  Integrity  fell  upon  inanition, 
and  the  creeds  of  weary  or  arid  minds  found  their 
opportunity. 

The  civil  war,  ending  in  403  B.  C,  with  the  vic- 
tory of  the  *  new  '  Demos,  completed  the  trans- 
formation, already  far  advanced  thanks  to  the 
twenty-eight  years  of  luckless  conflict  with  Sparta. 
The  temper  that  could  declare,  ''  We  alone  regard 
a  man  who  takes  no  interest  in  public  affairs,  not 
as  harmless,  but  as  a  useless  member  of  society," 
had  lost  its  old  surety;  disaster  had  overtaken 
everything;  and  a  querulous  spirit  stalked  abroad. 
But,  even  overwhelming  misfortunes  cannot  erase 
a  mighty  past.  And  the  question  arises.  Had  the 
hellenic  consciousness  aught  to  offer  those  who  had 
eyes  to  see?  Were  there  ecumenical  convictions, 
not  peculiar  to  Athens  or,  indeed,  to  any  city- 
state,  but  characteristic  of  the  Greek  contribution 
to  '  the  education  of  man,'  whereon  insight  might 
plant  firm  feet  despite  the  loss  of  great  possessions 
and  the  lapse  of  former  purposes?  The  con- 
tinued, and  continuous,  supremacy  of  Athens  in 
the  spiritual  realm  compels  us  to  answer.  Yes. 
Her  political  decline  was  not  to  be  without  com- 
pensation.    Nay,  it  proved  the  prelude  to  her  as- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  43 

sured  supremacy  —  in  language,  Ideas  and  culture 
—  as  the  living  embodiment  of  the  hellenic  genius. 
Self-sufficiency  had  gone,  but,  in  the  *  things  of 
the  mind,'  Athens  had  grown  for  ever  synonymous 
with  Greece,  the  protagonist  of  the  higher  cosmo- 
politanism. The  death  of  material  possibilities 
had  liberated  gracious  facts.  In  the  magic  person 
of  Socrates  and,  later,  in  the  universalism  of  Plato, 
the  fateful  city  reverted  to  that  older  cos- 
mopolitanism, born  from  men  of  her  own  kin, 
and  expressed  In  the  recurrent  conviction,  "  the 
things  which  are  seen  are  temporal,  but  the  things 
which  are  unseen  are  eternal."  Or,  in  the  symp- 
tomatic words  of  the  dramatist  who  best  caught  the 
inward  implications  of  that  age,  "  Blessed  of  old 
are  the  sons  of  Erectheus  .  .  .  moving  luminously 
through  the  brightest  air,  where  once,  they  say, 
golden-haired  Harmony  brought  forth  the  nine 
chaste  Muses  of  Pieria."  The  ancient  pride  of 
the  city  still  preserved  Itself,  though  tuned  to 
vaster  Issues  than  the  conquest  of  Sicily.  Athens 
remained  Incomparable, —  the  very  moon  shines 
more  beautifully  upon  her  than  upon  Corinth, — 
because  all  that  was  stable  In  her  had  been  conse- 
crated by  the  memories  of  men  who  achieved  in- 
comparably for  the  whole  race.  Socrates  and 
Plato,  and  the  rest,  are  indeed  Athenians,  but, 
**  blood-tinctur'd  of  a  veined  humanity,"  they 
are  no  less  '  heroes  '  of  humankind.     The  Utopia, 


44  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

the  place  where  all  is  well,  because  it  is  dedicated 
to  lasting  purposes  satisfying  to  intellect  and  emo- 
tion alike,  acts  as  a  philtre,  at  once  troubling  and 
assuaging  self-consciousness.  And  this  idea,  of 
"  another  city,  which  is  an  heavenly,"  had  haunted 
the  hellenic  world  for  centuries,  giving  point  and 
power  to  the  mythical  Orpheus,  and  to  the  leg- 
endary Pythagoras.  Small  wonder  that  it  should 
reappear  in  these  days  of  evil  omen,  pregnant  with 
consequences. 

Careful  and  troubled  about  many  things,  Peri- 
clean  Athenians  were  beset  by  doubt  concerning 
essentials.  But  doubt  is  often  a  prelude  to  larger 
vision,  even  though  this  may  illuminate  the  few 
only.  Thus,  if  we  remember  that  the  Greek 
drama  was  a  religious  exercise,  we  can  see  readily 
how  it  bore  one  implication,  in  the  sphere  of  the 
Homeric  mythology,  for  the  Demos,  another,  at 
once  freer  and  yet  more  dogmatic,  for  the  select 
spirits.  The  '  unchangeable  decrees '  of  Zeus, 
personified  in  Nemesis  and  Ate,  in  Hybris  and 
Peitho,  must  have  been  of  peculiar  suggestion  to 
men  in  the  Socratic  mould,  who  deemed  philoso- 
phy a  '  preparation  for  death.'  The  anthropo- 
morphism became  '  anthropormophic  enough  '  for 
them,  as  in  the  Platonic  myths  later,  and  the 
figures,  growing  transparent,  revealed  the  unseen 
and  eternal  forces  that  remain  imperturbable 
amid  the  fitful  fever  that  marks  the  lot  of  blind 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  45 

mortals.  But,  how  to  clear  them  of  sensuous  ref- 
erence, how  to  cleanse  them  of  mere  abstract  sym- 
bolism, so  perilously  nigh  superstition?  This  was 
the  rare  opportunity  presented  to  the  true  philoso- 
pher! His  it  was  to  start  from  the  average  cit- 
izen in  average  moods;  then  to  discern  the  transi- 
tive norms  that  had  bestowed  efficacy  and  power 
upon  the  city-group,  now  obsolescent;  finally,  to 
transcend  discrepancies,  so  intrinsic  to  the  '  qual- 
ities '  whereby  the  natural  world  is  interpene- 
trated and,  by  this  ascent  to  unriddle  the  most  in- 
sistent of  all  problems.  But,  observe,  this  ascent 
demands  personal  experience,  an  *  initiation ' 
which  supersedes  the  otiose  birthright  of  citizen- 
ship. As  Berkeley  said,  reproducing  the  very 
temper  of  Socrates:  "  Whatever  the  world  thinks, 
he  who  hath  not  much  meditated  upon  God,  the 
Human  Mind,  and  the  Summum  Bonum,  may  pos- 
sibly make  a  thriving  earthworm,  but  will  most 
indubitably  make  a  sorry  patriot  and  a  sorry 
statesman." 

Through  Socrates  and  his  magnetic  influence, 
the  *  cry  of  the  human  '  arises  to  disturb  the  pre- 
occupation of  the  citizen,  not  querulously,  indeed, 
but  by  reference  to  problems  which  the  subordina- 
tion of  the  citizen  soothed  rather  than  solved. 
The  Athenian  or  what  not,  possessed  by  his  city, 
enjoyed  the  care  of  the  "  gods  whom  the  city 
recognises,"  and  through  the  medium  of  a  com- 


46  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

mon  or  group  cidtus.  Communal  custom  lent  him 
such  support  as  he  craved,  such  vocation  as  suf- 
ficed. Yet,  this  very  citizen  was  also  human,  and 
bound  to  travel  beyond  the  local  and  temporary 
coulisses  de  societe.  Accordingly,  the  man,  pos- 
sessed by  a  soul,  could  not  but  rise  above  the  city, 
and  worship  a  deity  of  whose  especial  or  personal 
care  he  sought  assurance.  At  first,  therefore,  he 
tended  to  minimise,  and  then  came  to  neglect  the 
impersonal  Interests  of  the  State  In  favour  of  the 
eternal  destiny  of  the  individual.  And  this  im- 
plied at  once  an  unclvic  course  of  action,  and  an 
unclvic  sweep  of  philosophy.  To  go  no  further 
afield,  Alclblades,  In  the  Symposium  of  Plato,  tes- 
tifies to  the  former,  the  entire  atmosphere  of  the 
Phado  to  the  latter.  The  classical  passage, 
where  Alclblades  recounts  the  extraordinary  im- 
pression of  individual  peculiarity  and  reserve  left 
by  Socrates,  runs  as  follows:  "One  morning  he 
was  thinking  about  something  which  he  could  not 
resolve;  he  would  not  give  it  up,  but  continued 
thinking  from  early  dawn  until  noon  —  there  he 
stood  fixed  in  thought;  and  at  noon  attention  was 
drawn  to  him,  and  the  rumour  ran  through  the 
wondering  crowd  that  Socrates  had  been  standing 
and  thinking  about  something  ever  since  the  break 
of  day.  At  last,  in  the  evening  after  supper,  some 
lonians,  out  of  curiosity  (I  should  explain  this  was 
not  in  winter,  but  in  summer),  brought  out  their 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  47 

mats  and  slept  In  the  open  air,  that  they  might 
watch  him  and  see  whether  he  would  stand  all 
night.  There  he  stood  all  night  until  the  follow- 
ing morning;  and  with  the  return  of  light  he  of- 
fered up  a  prayer  to  the  sun,  and  went  his  way." 
This  Incident  offers  an  admirable  Illustration  of 
one  aspect  of  the  Master,  an  aspect  little  con- 
sonant with  all  we  usually  ascribe  to  the  care-free, 
beauty-loving  Athenian.  As  we  saw  before,  Soc- 
rates had  a  distinct  ascetic  strain.  Now,  in  the 
Greek  world, —  as,  Indeed,  always, —  asceticism 
presupposed  a  definite  doctrine,  not  about  human 
life,  but  about  the  nature  of  the  individual  man. 
Taking  no  account  of  the  citizen  or  of  the  alien, 
of  the  Greek  or  of  the  *  barbarian,'  this  doctrine 
regarded  men,  in  their  separate  persons,  as  the 
subjects  of  a  twofold  being.  They  are  bodies  and 
souls  in  temporary  partnership.  At  death,  the 
temporal  factor,  the  body,  returns  to  its  constitu- 
ent earthly  elements;  but  the  soul,  being  divine, 
persists.  Thus,  true  '  philosophy,'  in  contrast  with 
the  '  practical '  arts  of  the  sophist,  is  a  rehearsal 
of  death;  a  discipline  that  assures  the  soul  eternal 
release  from  its  ''  garment  of  strange  flesh."  The 
philosopher  Is  he  who  has  schooled  himself  to  die 
daily.  *'  The  soul  of  the  true  philosopher  .  .  . 
abstains  from  pleasures  and  desires  and  pains  and 
fears  so  far  as  she  is  able;  "  for,  "  each  pleasure 
and  pain  is  a  sort  of  nail  which  spikes  and  rivets 


48  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

the  soul  to  the  body,  until  she  becomes  the  body 
.  .  .  and  is  not  likely  ever  to  be  pure  at  her  de- 
parture." This  was  no  new-fangled  notion  among 
the  Hellenes,  although  it  did  not  attract  Athenians. 
At  the  same  time,  whether  its  origin  be  Orphic 
or  Pythagorean,  or  both,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  Socrates  contemplated  just  such  a  '  way  '  of 
life.  His  Daimon  held  him  from  the  turmoil  of 
local  politics,  because  the  larger  life  called  him  to 
"  become  God  from  Man,"  as  the  Orphic  tablets 
have  it.  The  trance,  noted  above,  was  but  one 
mark  of  a  mastery  of  soul  over  body,  already  ac- 
quired by  ascetic  discipline,  practised,  possibly, 
with  an  inner  circle  of  '  initiated '  disciples,  as 
Aristophanes  seems  to  indicate. 

Now,  this  imports,  not  merely  a  certain  moral 
rule,  but  also  a  distinct  type  of  ontological  ideal- 
ism. Whatever  difficulty  there  may  be  in  proving 
that  the  contemptuous  criticism  of  the  leaders  of 
the  Athenian  Demos,  given  in  the  Gorgias,  rep- 
resents the  attitude  of  the  historic  Socrates,  we 
can  hardly  deny  that,  from  his  general  point  of 
view  as  we  know  it,  it  has  historical  warrant; 
and,  at  any  rate,  his  Cynic  disciples  so  interpreted 
him.  Nay,  Thucydides  intimates  as  much.  Devo- 
tion to  the  best  things  was  slipping,  even  Pericles, 
despite  the  unmatched  Funeral  Orationj  seems  to 
have  felt  the  insidious  change  towards  the  end. 
At  all  events  principle  paled  and  casuistry,  brought 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  49 

forth  to  tide  an  occasion  over,  waxed.  The 
gracious  responsibility,  so  characteristic  of  yore, 
gave  way  to  conditions  such  as  those  satirised  by 
Plato  In  the  allegory  of  the  Disorderly  Crew.  In 
short,  conservation  of  ethical  values  was  going  to 
pieces.  The  victorious  foes  of  Athens  were  they 
of  her  own  household.  As  Thucydldes  says 
grimly:  ''The  sacred  places  .  .  .  were  full  of 
corpses  who  had  died  just  as  they  were;  "  and,  af- 
ter this,  anything, — "  men  .  .  .  became  utterly 
careless  of  all  whether  sacred  or  profane."  Natu- 
rally, then,  Socrates  "  made  his  companions  de- 
splsers  of  the  existing  laws."  As  the  Euthyphro 
relates,  he  sought  a  '  good  '  that  escaped  the  civic 
order,  even  in  its  holy  things.  It  is  not  Impossi- 
ble that  his  devotion  to  Apollo  assumed  a  form 
distasteful  to  Athenian  worshippers  of  Apollo 
Patroos,  the  deity  of  the  phratrles;  that,  to  use 
Mr.  Farnell's  words,  Socrates  strayed  "  outside 
of  the  proto-Athenian  cult-system."  While  it  is 
improbable  that  he  Introduced  '  mysteries '  of  a 
Dionysiac  nature,  or  adopted  a  cathartic  ritual, 
there  are  traces  of  evidence  that  he  entertained 
'  unofficial '  or  Illicit  doctrines  concerning  the 
soul,  perhaps  of  the  kind  underlying  the  associa- 
tion of  Pythagoras  with  Apollo  Hyberoreios.  Be 
this  as  It  may,  many  were  convinced  that  he  ex- 
hibited tendencies  towards  a  belief  In  divine  *  par- 
ticipation '  beyond  the  reach  of  '  orthodox '  cit- 


so  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

izens  and,  therefore,  from  their  standpoint,  sub- 
versive of  equal  relations  with  the  deities.  As- 
suredly, his  imperturbable  composure  was  firmly 
set  on  the  conviction  that  there  is  a  sphere  where 
ethical  values  are  conserved.  Of  this  the  Daimon 
furnished  him  unanswerable  witness.  Thus,  just 
as  there  is  a  dualism  between  body  and  soul,  so 
there  is  a  dualism  between  the  human  and  the  di- 
vine '  states.'  The  purpose  of  God  is  not  that 
of  men.  What  we  demand  of  deity  is  the  preser- 
vation of  '  the  Good  ' —  a  condition  of  spiritual 
being  wherein  is  salvation.  This  supplies  at  once 
the  norm  of  an  adequate  life  and  the  '  sufficient 
initial  postulate  ' —  the  coercive  principle,  as  a 
modern  idealist  would  phrase  it  —  whence  any 
relevant  estimate  of  the  meaning  of  the  universe 
must  start.  The  Good  and  the  Beautiful  are  true 
existences  in  the  Divine  and,  not  subject  to  birth 
or  death,  they  alone  can  give  a  man  rest  unto  his 
soul.  The  way  of  life  is  a  '  way,'  because  it 
comes  from  and  leads  to  them;  throughout  it,  the 
soul  conserves  unity  with  God.  Veritable  knowl- 
edge and  veritable  goodness  have,  and  can  find, 
no  other  guarantee.  If  '  citizens '  think  other- 
wise, the  simple  fact  is  that  they  suffer  from  il- 
lusions. 

It  is  still,  and  long  may  be,  an  open  question 
how  far  these  tendencies  moulded  the  teaching  of 
Socrates.     But,  whatever  evidence  may  be  precip- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  51 

itated  ultimately  by  further  Inquiry,  it  must  re- 
main certain  that  Socrates  drew  no  extreme  Uto- 
pian conclusions.  He  had  reached  his  majority 
ere  the  Persian  peace,  his  early  and  middle  man- 
hood synchronised  with  the  wondrous  bloom  of 
Athens.  Individualistic  utoplanism  was  out  of  the 
question,  the  traditions  of  the  Greek  state  persist- 
ing with  unique  results,  public  service  still  provid- 
ing a  reasonable  vocation.  Social  control  was  too 
rooted  In  Immemorial  custom  to  be  foregone  even 
by  a  Socrates. 

"  It  is  a  city  and  free, 
The  whole  folk  year  by  year,  in  parity 
Of  service,  is  our  King," 

as  even  the  dramatist  of  scepticism  could  declare. 
Spiritual  adventure  might  be  undertaken  and  yet 
conserve  much  of  the  civic  ethos,  for  self-discipline 
continued  vital,  as  the  magnificent  passages  In  the 
Apology  attest,  and  as  many  stories  about  Socrates 
show.  In  other  words,  the  Socratic  '  quality ' 
was  not  out  of  reach  in  the  spacious  days  of  great 
Pericles  —  playing  politics  apart,  perhaps.  But, 
by  the  time  the  Master  turned  fifty,  decline 
had  set  in  apace.  And  though,  so  far  as  we  now 
know,  he  never  lost  sentiment  for  the  communal 
heritage,  he  had  sown  seed  destined  to  produce 
something  widely  different.  He  may  well  have 
seemed  to  the  Cynic,  in  many  ways,  a  representa- 


52  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

tive  of  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  But 
his  conception  of  equality,  as  fellowship  based  on 
vital  fraternity,  even  if  it  entirely  precluded  Cynic 
anarchism,  gave  Antisthenes  a  relevant  point  of 
departure.  ''  When  the  Athenian  is  good,  he  is 
very  good,"  as  the  Spartan  says  in  the  Laws. 
Socrates  was  too  good  for  his  Cynic  disciples  — 
his  person  towered  above  their  ken.  But,  Athens 
gone,  even  Socrates  must  become  good,  not  in  and 
for  her,  but  for  the  sake  of  an  '  alien  '  humanity, 
shared  by  him  with  all  men.  Assuredly,  events 
led  the  Cynics  so  to  interpret  him;  and,  thus  see- 
ing, they  vulgarised  his  asceticism,  and  inverted 
his  unlversalism,  stripping  it  of  positive  applica- 
tion. 

If  our  confidence  in  the  available  records  be  not 
misplaced  sadly,  Socrates  was  a  character  of  the 
utmost  complexity.  He  appealed  strongly,  in 
some  cases  overwhelmingly,  to  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  men.  Charmides,  Plato's  uncle,  an  as- 
sociate from  of  old,  who  became  only  more  at- 
tached with  the  lapse  of  years;  Pythagorean  mys- 
tics from  Thebes  and  Phlius;  scientific  Eleatics 
from  Megara;  Crito,  a  representative  and  rich 
Athenian  gentleman ;  ^schines,  a  noted  litterateur, 
a  familiar  of  poverty;  the  aristocratic  Plato, 
splendid  in  body  no  less  than  in  mind;  Xenophon, 
another  aristocrat,  the  father  of  all  true  amateur 
sportsmen;  Hermogenes,  who  had  spent  his  sub- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  53 

stance  upon  Sophists,  to  no  purpose;  Antisthenes, 
the  bitter  Cynic,  and  many  others,  lay  under  his 
spell.  Age,  condition,  country,  Intellectual  affili- 
ation appear  to  have  made  no  difference.  Some- 
how or  other,  Socrates  transcended  class-feeling, 
the  distinctions  between  wealth  and  poverty,  and 
the  provincialisms  of  city-states.  Among  his  inti- 
mates and  associates  he  apparently  forecast,  in  his 
own  person,  the  encomium  upon  Athens  uttered 
afterwards  by  Isocrates;  he  was  "  the  inaugurator 
of  all  human  blessings,  the  guide  of  men  from  the 
life  of  beasts,  the  establlsher  In  fact  of  the  social 
organism  altogether."  Naturally,  then,  when  he 
died,  interpretations  of  his  character  and  teaching 
differed  widely  —  every  associate  found  what  he 
brought.  SImmlas,  the  mystic,  saw  one  light; 
Xenophon,  the  soldier-country-gentleman,  another; 
Plato,  the  artist-metaphysician,  another;  the  '  sav- 
age '  Appolodorus,  like  Antisthenes,  social  pro- 
letarians both,  yet  another. 

Although  an  Intellectual  proletariate  did  not  ex- 
ist then,  as  In  some  modern  countries,  there  were 
proletarians  nevertheless.  A  hard,  even  callous 
school,  Athens  knew  right  well  that  a  portion  of 
this  world's  goods  played  a  necessary  part  in  the 
*  best '  life.  But,  class-differences  had  been  ac- 
centuated by  the  war,  all  could  not  work  for  the 
city  now,  at  an  equal,  if  modest,  wage.  More- 
over, the  generous  temper  of  the  great  building 


54  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

era  had  developed  acidity.  Listen  to  the  Irony 
put  In  the  mouths  of  the  envoys  at  Melos  by 
Thucydides:  "We  shall  not  trouble  you  with 
specious  pretences  either  of  how  we  have  a  right 
to  our  Empire,  because  we  overthrow  the  Persians, 
or  are  now  attacking  you  because  of  the  Injury  that 
you  have  done  us.  You  know  just  as  well  as  we 
that  right,  as  the  judgment  of  the  world  runs,  is  in 
question  only  between  equals  In  power;  the  strong 
do  what  they  can,  and  the  weak  suffer  what  they 
must."  The  old  graclousness  had  evaporated, 
the  squalor  remained.  Practical  preoccupation 
was  trenching  upon  former  llght-heartedness,  and 
seemed  to  be  an  unavoidable  accompaniment  of 
the  social  order.  Large  adjustments  were  in 
process  with  the  usual  results  —  unhapplness,  in- 
decision, and  much  open  discontent.  Moreover, 
the  view,  expressed  by  Plato  a  generation  later, 
was  rooted  more  firmly  amongst  the  '  intellectu- 
als '  at  the  time  of  the  execution  of  Socrates. 
"  Poverty  results  from  increase  of  man's  desires, 
not  from  the  diminution  of  his  property."  That 
Is,  the  ascetic  doctrine  of  wealth  —  the  good  man's 
chattels  will  be  "  such  as  to  be  in  harmony  with 
his  Inward  wealth  " —  had  received  powerful  im- 
petus from  the  growth  of  philosophy.  Nor  was 
this  all.  The  position  of  the  '  unproductive  ' 
alien  had  become  more  difficult.  If  the  foreigner 
came  to  the  city  to  '  make  money,'  he  enjoyed  the 


J 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  55 

same  freedom  as  the  citizen,  all  things  considered, 
—  the  Piraeus  afforded  him  a  '  country.'  But, 
In  the  things  of  the  spirit,  he  was  more  than  ever 
an  outsider  to  the  native-born.  As  Isocrates  said, 
with  particular  reference  to  the  days  of  the  demo- 
cratic sea-power:  "  A  city  will  be  happy,  not  when 
it  collects  a  multitude  of  citizens  at  random  from 
every  nation  In  the  world,  but  when  It  preserves 
above  all  the  race  of  Its  original  inhabitants.'* 
The  cruel  disabilities  heaped  upon  alien  women 
in  403  B.  C,  and  the  Impeachment  of  Socrates 
itself  are  straws,  showing  how  the  wind  blew. 
Welcome,  more  or  less,  from  the  period  of  Solon, 
the  alien,  thanks  to  his  exclusive  vocation  as  a 
trader,  was  now  regarded  as  a  '  base '  fellow. 
When  useful,  he  dealt  in  leather,  honey,  oakum, 
sheep  or  cheese,  as  Aristophanes  comments  sar- 
castically; for  the  rest,  especially  when  given  to 
thought,  he  was  a  menace,  because  In  morals,  re- 
ligion and  the  like,  a  man  without  a  country. 
Thus,  wafted  by  economic  and  social  forces,  the 
alien  thinker  moved  inevitably  towards  non-Greek 
notions,  and  sometimes  sought  the  fair  land  of 
Utopia.  Notice,  too,  that,  after  Socrates,  Plato 
was  the  sole  native  Athenian  who  achieved  uni- 
versal position  in  philosophy.  Aliens  held  the 
leadership  from  his  day  till  the  death  of  Panae- 
tius,  two  and  one-half  centuries  after;  and  the 
later  native  *  presidents '  are,  for  the  most  part, 


S6  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

mere  nobodies.  Alien  outlook,  then,  no  less 
than  native  economic  transformation,  was  to  put 
a  new  face  upon  Socratic  teaching. 

Not  without  Socratic  authority,  as  we  have 
seen.  Individualism,  in  the  modern  sense,  would 
have  been  incomprehensible  to  a  Greek.  For 
him,  it  always  implied  some  form  of  hostility  to 
society.  The  Cynics  were  fated  to  make  this 
plain,  and  by  appeal  to  Socrates.  Historical  con- 
ditions during  the  sixty-seven  years  between  the 
battles  of  i^gospotamos  and  Chaeronea  undoubt- 
edly countenanced  their  abandonment  of  his  dis- 
interested criticism  in  favour  of  political  despair 
and  rejection  of  all  social  relations.  Like  Mill, 
they  deemed  Socrates  dissatisfied  better  than  a  pig 
satisfied.  But  they  committed  the  terrible  blun- 
der of  supposing  that  dissatisfaction  could  furnish 
a  complete  ideal.  Thus,  in  one  way,  the  Cynic 
point  of  departure  is  plain  enough.  Consistency, 
if  not  of,  then  to,  thought,  as  originating  the 
*  way '  of  life;  self-sufficient  unity  of  will  in  pur- 
suing this  'way;'  and  radical  departure  from 
convention,  based  on  personalised  insight,  did  in- 
deed mark  Socrates.  Dissenting  reaction,  espe- 
cially against  democratic  stupidity  and  materialism 
was  one  aspect  of  his  work.  Narrow  and  disil- 
lusioned souls  learned  this  lesson  readily;  for 
them  it  became  a  shibboleth,  that  the  aims  of 
morality   must   be   wholly   self-determined.     The 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  57 

'  Socratic  vigour,'  turned  to  rigour,  alone  could 
render  "  virtue  sufficient  for  happiness."  And,  If 
society  outraged  the  '  self-determined '  Individ- 
ual, he  could  retort  In  kind.  He  could  change  So- 
cratic calm  Into  violence,  replacing  sympathetic 
criticism  from  within  by  fierce  challenge.  We 
have  noted  this  phase  of  the  situation  already;  it 
is  part  of  the  accepted  tradition  about  the  history 
of  Greek  thought. 

But,  subtler  influences  were  at  work.  When 
the  Cynic  movement  broke  forth,  the  Sophists  had 
completed  their  mission,  and  were  receding  into 
the  past.  Other  problems  had  appeared.  On 
the  face  of  it,  then,  we  should  not  look  for  the 
significance  of  Cynicism  primarily  in  the  intellec- 
tual gymnastics  of  the  fifth  century.  Certainty  in 
life,  not  dexterity  in  dialectic,  was  the  new  desid- 
eratum. And  so,  even  the  Cynic  logic  may  well 
have  been  based  upon  discussion  of  human  tem- 
perament and,  for  this  reason,  may  have  diverged 
from  the  usual  clever  displays  of  eristic.  It  may 
Intend  to  show  that  man  is  one  —  an  impervious 
unity  —  according  to  '  convention  '  as  well  as  ac- 
cording to  *  nature.'  To  reach  this  impalpable 
essence,  one  might  judge  It  quite  worth  while  to 
beggar  himself  of  goods,  to  forego  companionship 
with  his  *  blind '  neighbours.  Popular  science, 
art  and  education,  nay,  civic  life  in  general,  being 
utterly  inadequate  to  virtue,  the  man  who  would 


58  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

be  true  to  self  must  strike  out  alone  on  his  own 
path.  What  path?  The  soul  experiences  a  pro- 
found need  "  to  discourse  with  herself."  She  is 
able  to  do  so  morally,  because  she  knows  the 
'  more  excellent  way  '  and  this,  in  turn,  points  to 
a  peculiar  reality  conceivable  by  the  '  wise  man  ' 
only.  For,  while  '  virtue  '  possesses  a  '  nature,* 
nevertheless  '  convention,'  even  though  it  seem  to 
inhabit  the  sphere  of  '  virtue,'  may  be  another  at- 
testation of  this  very  '  nature,'  if  we  but  see  it 
aright.  In  any  case,  we  here  discover  the  reason 
why  we  are  able  to  name  virtue  '  virtue.'  Hence 
the  possibility  of  tragedy  after  the  order  of  Eu- 
ripides. The  decent  citizen  takes  his  critics  for 
scoundrels,  the  critics  are  keenly  aware  that  he  is  a 
victim  of  mere  self-deception.  In  a  word,  a  real 
life  according  to  the  spirit  of  Socrates  replaced  a 
real  life  according  to  the  senses.  There  is  no 
problem  as  between  the  two,  for  the  question  holds 
entirely  with  reference  to  the  implications  of  the 
former.  Here  we  strike  the  basis  of  Cynic  fanat- 
icism. There  was  a  two-edged  sword,  dividing 
unto  the  bones  and  marrow.  The  issue  admitted 
of  no  paltering. 

If,  then,  the  Cynics,  led  by  Antisthenes,  who  be- 
longed to  the  Socratic  inner  circle  at  the  death  of 
the  Master,  set  out  from  the  doctrine  that  "  the 
soul  partakes  in  the  divine,"  they  developed  th 
theory  in  one  of  the  two  directions  which  It  may] 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  59 

take.  Like  the  mystic  who,  as  Plato  says  in  the 
Gorgias,  "  creeps  into  a  corner  for  the  rest  of  his 
life,  and  talks  in  a  whisper  with  three  or  four 
admiring  youths,  but  never  speaks  out  like  a  free- 
man in  a  satisfactory  manner,"  they  withdrew  from 
political  affairs,  because,  for  the  most  part,  eco- 
nomic conditions  had  borne  harshly  upon  them. 
And,  unlike  Socrates,  sentiment  for  the  state  left 
them  untouched.  Therefore,  they  contemplated 
a  Utopia  having  for  its  legend  Menander's  phrase, 
"  what  a  fine  thing  is  a  man  when  he  is  man." 
Neglecting  the  universal  element  in  every  man, 
they  thought  of  the  separate  individual  as  uni- 
versal, and  descried  ultimate  truth  in  subjectivity 
of  character,  the  sufficing  Utopia  in  a  singular  life. 
They  thus  served  themselves  avatars  of  an  apocry- 
phal Socrates,  although  in  their  mendicancy,  and 
in  their  taboos,  they  preserved  external  signs  of  a 
doctrine  that  had  affected  their  master  greatly. 
Like  Socrates,  and  like  the  '  initiate  '  brethren  of 
his  "  notion-shop,"  they  held  that  the  true  philos- 
opher ranks  pleasure  very  low,  that  the  desires  of 
the  body  thwart  the  quest  for  truth  and,  conse- 
quently, that  the  permanent  '  goods  '  sought  by 
the  true  philosopher  transcend  the  senses,  be- 
cause "  visible  "  only  to  the  mind.  In  all  this  they 
agree  with  the  greatest  disciple  of  Socratic  mys- 
ticism. "  Plato,"  as  Archer  Hind  says,  "  ac- 
knowledges that  the  morality  of  the  multitude 


6o  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

must  be  utilitarian,  since  none  other  is  attainable 
save  by  the  highly  trained  metaphysician.  There- 
fore, however  superior  the  morality  of  those  who 
obey  this  code  may  be  to  that  of  the  oligarchical 
man,  it  is  sundered  from  that  of  the  philosopher 
by  a  fathomless  gulf."  They  dissent  from  Plato 
in  that  they  contemptuously  refuse  "  to  desist  from 
their  own  meditations  and  give  their  minds  to 
instructing  their  fellow-citizens;  "  fellow-citizens 
they  had  none,  be  it  remembered. 

Evidently,  then,  the  Cynics  viewed  their  prob- 
lems from  the  height  of  a  knowledge  of  moral 
'  realities,'  a  knowledge  connected  so  closely  with 
ascetic  habits,  long  naturalised  in  the  hellenic 
world,  that  it  was,  apparently,  at  once  their  pro- 
genitor and  their  offspring.  They  laboured  '  in 
travail,'  and  sought  '  deliverance  '  in  the  temper 
of  *  initiates.'  In  all  this  they  kept  faith  with 
the  Socratic  '  inner  light,'  with  the  Socratic  en- 
durance, and  with  the  Socratic  independence,  but, 
lacking  the  Socratic  discipline  in  citizenship,  they 
were  neither  canny  nor  *  ironical.'  They  over- 
looked the  positive  humanity  in  this  *  wise  man.' 
So,  like  protestants  always,  they  abstracted  the  in- 
dividual, and  proceeded  to  make  God  from  him. 
Thus,  virtue  became  possible  only  where  society 
ceased,  and  they  outlawed  themselves  even  from 
the  Socratic  fraternity.  For,  social  arrangements, 
being  '  stepped  down  '  from  a  transcendent,  im- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  6i 

material  entity, —  which  they  conceal  or  bemuse, 
—  are  fatal  to  the  *  reality  '  as  it  is  in  men  here 
and  now.  These  ancient  anarchists  stood  to  So- 
crates as  did  Feuerbach  and  '  Stirner,'  fathers  of 
modern  anarchism,  to  Hegel. 

"  The  state  of  nature  was  the  reign  of  God," 

but,  man  aside,  it  could  not  exist.  The  Cynics 
would  have  applauded  Quinet's  remark,  *'  the  owl 
has  outlived  Pallas  Athene ;  the  eagle  has  outlived 
Jupiter;  they  have  not  shed  a  feather  in  the  fall  of 
the  gods."  But,  they  would  have  commented, 
'  our  Socrates  has  added  a  cubit  to  his  stature  in 
the  fall  of  the  gods.'  The  anarchist  ideal  cen- 
tres in  this  attitude  precisely. 

Vague  and,  of  set  purpose,  evading  definition, 
the  Cynic  ideal  is "  distinctively  anthropological. 
By  a  curious,  but  characteristic,  inversion,  mysti- 
cism gives  way  to  a  Selbstanschauung  Gottes  — 
in  man.  The  result  follows  necessarily  from  the 
special  quality  of  Cynic  as  contrasted  with  Chris- 
tian asceticism.  The  latter,  not  content  with  re- 
nouncing the  flesh  and  the  world  that  ministers  to 
it,  abandons  the  human  spirit  also,  abasing  both 
knowledge  and  will.  The  Cynics,  on  the  con- 
trary, minimise  the  wants  of  the  body  and  berate 
the  social  expedients  that  at  once  create  and  In- 
dulge them.  But  they  hold  fast  to  human  knowl- 
edge,  and  will,  nay,  properly  understood,   these 


62  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

are  the  universe.  Man,  the  Individual,  finds  the 
sole  good  In  them  and,  so  finding,  himself  becomes 
the  universal.  As  In  democratic  Athens  all  die, 
so  in  autocratic  Antlsthenes  one  is  made  alive 
again.  To  have  no  wants  is  to  be  as  the  gods,  to 
safeguard  Independence  is  to  realise  the  divine 
nature,  because  virtue  and  wisdom  are  here  pre- 
supposed. But  virtue  and  wisdom  are  not  viable 
so  long  as  alien  '  law '  and  alien  social  '  will ' 
continue  to  Interfere.  These  restraints  are  de- 
ceptions palmed  o^  as  truth,  and  evil  altogether. 
Social  problems  do  not  exist,  because  any  order  of 
civilised  society  Is  Inherently  bad.  On  the  other 
hand,  by  following  the  true  '  way,'  thus  narrowly 
interpreted,  man  can  grow  more  and  more  into 
*  likeness  '  with  the  gods,  who  are  self-sufficing. 
The  essential  need  Is  to  '  see  all  things  in  a  cer- 
tain way.'  This  done,  manhood,  if  given  free 
course,  glorifies  itself  into  divinity.  The  '  wise 
man,'  when  he  cultivates  his  *  special  endow- 
ment '  as  a  human  being  emancipated  from  the 
infractions  of  society,  reveals  to  his  fellows  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  '  the  highest.'  He  Is  '  set  apart,' 
not  Indeed  as  a  pensive  pietist,  but  as  the  "  organ 
of  Imperial  Reason."  Motivated  thus,  he  achieves 
apotheosis.  The  patriotism  of  the  city  is  de- 
serted for  a  patriotism  of  heaven  —  upon  earth. 
So  each  man,  gifted  with  Insight,  must  work  out 
hi§  own  salvation  In  despite  of  society  and,  wis- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  63 

dom  conceded,  he  has  almighty  power  to  attain  his 
end.  In  other  words,  we  have  a  purely  anthro- 
pocentric  universal,  and  the  anthropos  is  the  self 
disengaged  from  entangling  alliances  with  his 
kind.  The  knowledge  that  all  else  is  malignant 
is,  on  the  theoretical  side.  Cynicism,  on  the  prac- 
tical, anarchism.  The  unintelligible  omnipotence 
of  a  deity,  and  the  unintelligent  governance  of  a 
society  or  state  become  intelligible  —  in  the  tau- 
tology of  the  individual  life ! 

Confronted  with  the  intense  city-pride  of  the 
Greeks,  this  strange  issue  of  Socratic  other-world- 
liness  could  not  escape  a  certain  negative  cosmo- 
politanism, of  a  kind  somewhat  in  evidence  to- 
day. The  kinship  appears  in  common  assump- 
tions. The  Cynics  assumed,  for  example,  that 
the  State  forces  restraints  upon  its  citizens  and, 
having  accomplished  this,  its  relations  with  them 
cease.  Now,  restraint  as  such  is  high  treason  to 
the  free  soul.  For,  the  life  of  the  State  and  the 
career  of  the  individual  are  mutually  exclusive. 
The  time  had  not  yet  arrived  for  enunciation  of 
that  toothsome  anarchist  epigram,  "  the  end  of 
all  government  is  to  render  government  super- 
fluous." But  the  root  of  the  matter  was  there. 
Individual  conviction  had  been  set  in  opposition 
to  civic  opinion,  and  the  '  inalienable  rights  '  of 
the  former  had  received  explicit  assertion.  Trea- 
son to  the  State,  as  the  State  judged,  had  bios- 


64  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

somed  into  identity  with  truth  to  self.  But,  in  the 
Greek  world,  this  never  meant  that  the  State  was 
to  be  seized  and  overthrown;  such  a  proceeding 
could  not,  according  to  the  ancient  outlook,  profit 
the  individual.  It  did  mean,  however,  that  the 
State  must  be  abandoned  to  the  fate  brought  upon 
it  by  its  own  '  divisive  courses.'  The  Cynic 
preacher  taught  that  all  is  vanity,  and  incidentally 
proved  that  the  greatest  of  vanities  is  the  preacher 
himself.  For,  to  be  frank,  his  vanity  measured 
his  weakness.  His  inner  unity,  manifested  in 
outer  oddity,  gained  no  more  than  a  negative  suc- 
cess, the  success  of  a  noisy  scandal.  He  saw  what 
his  age  lacked,  never  what  it  needed.  His  in- 
communicable peculiarity,  a  parasitic  growth  upon 
the  body-politic  where  he  belonged,  concealed  its 
own  origin.  Grasping  the  liberty  wherewith 
Zeus  had  made  him  free,  he  lost  all  sense  of 
the  complementary  fraternity  and  responsibility. 
Generating  no  practicable  innovations  worth 
while,  he  realised  no  valuable  ends,  even  if  he 
proved  a  "  gad-fly  to  the  Athenians."  Notwith- 
standing his  fine  notions  about  "  making  God  from 
Man,"  he  bogged  himself  in  a  paltry  conceit  of 
originality.  Like  austere  sectaries  in  all  ages,  he 
must  needs  abide  these  condemnations.  At  the 
same  time,  when  we  bethink  the  *  more  excellent 
way  '  whither  he  set  out,  another  aspect  compels 
recognition.     Anarchism   is   a   parasitical   growth 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  65 

doubtless;    what    of    the    ready    and    favourable 
nidus  f 

Symptomatic  of  a  national  crisis,  the  execution 
of  Socrates  touched  the  level  of  real  tragedy. 
The  victim  and  his  judges  were  equally  right. 
Cynicism  formed  a  sequel  —  the  same  tragedy 
stripped  of  its  touching  features.  Men  do  not  go 
about  to  condemn  a  Socrates  lightly.  They  must 
needs  be  thoroughly  in  earnest  about  something 
which  so  possesses  them  that  they  lapse  from 
calm  assurance  into  the  cowardice  of  intolerance. 
And  a  Socrates  meets  death  clear-eyed,  because 
convinced  to  the  uttermost  of  an  indefeasible  truth. 
Athens  had  "  hitched  her  waggon  to  a  star,"  and 
believed  deeply  in  her  generous  destiny.  Invisible 
things  set  their  seal  upon  her  genius.  Jealous  for 
them,  public  opinion  broke  forth  in  intermittent 
fits  of  persecution.  On  the  other  hand,  the  '  aris- 
tocratic '  philosophers  caught  glimpse  of  even 
greater  realities  which,  again,  pointed  to  a  wiser 
adjustment  of  human  life  than  Athenian  provincial- 
ism permitted.  So,  Socrates  suffered,  because, 
faithful  to  a  mystic  call,  he  was  adjudged  faith- 
less to  the  sacred  norms  of  the  social  order.  But 
its  own  vaulting  ambition  brought  this  very  order 
to  its  doom  and,  with  the  Cynic  movement,  the 
old  passion  that  had  bred  heroes  brought  forth 
martyrs  —  martyrs  to  an  inverted  self-sufficiency. 
Esoteric  Socraticism,   which  could  flourish   as   a 


66  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

truth  within  the  State,  appeared  as  the  truth  over 
against  the  State.  The  defects  of  the  Greek  idea 
of  virtue  grown  manifest,  other  elements  of  good- 
ness clamoured  for  recognition,  but  at  a  time  when 
the  traditional  conception  was  still  powerful 
enough  to  baulk  a  new  synthesis. 

Fundamentally  aristocratic,  Greek  virtue 
divided  the  Hellene  from  the  barbarian,  the  sub- 
ject of  civic  paideia,  or  culture,  from  the  outsider 
who,  debarred  from  the  requisite  nurture,  re- 
mained apaidentos,  a  hopeless  boor.  Thus  un- 
derstood, virtue  depended  upon  knowledge;  he 
who  knows,  as  the  Greek  alone  enjoys  opportunity 
to  know,  cannot  fail  to  choose  '  the  more  excel- 
lent way,'  as  Socrates  taught.  Moreover,  en- 
lightened, he  will  respect  himself,  being  conscious 
of  his  due,  and  assert  himself,  being  conscious  of 
his  '  special  endowment.'  He  will  prefer  de- 
mands upon  others,  because  assured  of  mutual 
superiority  and  inferiority.  But,  curious  as  it  may 
seem,  Socrates  also  held  that  the  highest  virtue 
can  be  realised  only  in  a  confraternity  devoted  to 
mystic  doctrines  which  forbid  all  self-assertion. 
Pythagorean  communism  found  an  adherent  in 
him,  if  Plato  report  correctly.  The  ordinary  aims, 
even  of  Athenian  citizens,  are  "  a  tale  full  of  sound 
and  fury."  Accordingly,  his  gospel  is  permeated 
by  an  unhealed  dualism  between  achievement 
and   aspiration.     After  his   death,   political   and 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  67 

economic  changes  so  conspired  in  Athens  that  the 
Demos  embraced  the  lower  achievement,  and  aban- 
doned the  higher  aspiration,  forgetting  the  virtue 
of  internal  quality  in  mad  haste  to  acquire  external 
quantity.  Consequently,  the  Cynic,  seizing  upon 
self-assertion,  and  overbalancing  the  abstract  hu- 
manitarian element  In  Socratic  mysticism,  sought 
his  due  in  that  paradox — a  social  vacuum.  The 
relative  anarchy  of  the  actual  Athens  became  ab- 
solute for  him  as  the  paramount  condition  of  any 
moral  life  whatsoever.  The  '  separated  '  man, 
being  the  sole  possible  vehicle  of  the  good,  rejects 
as  impious  the  bare  suggestion  of  temporising  be- 
tween himself  and  the  '*  city  of  pigs."  Could 
tragedy  go  further?  Antlsthenes,  Crates,  Diog- 
enes and  the  rest  were  enunciating  a  principle 
that  has  effected,  and  must  continue  to  effect, 
weighty  results  for  civilisation.  The  "  city  of 
pigs  "  had  crowned  the  Acropolis  with  the  Par- 
thenon, and  was  about  to  give  expression  to  her 
eternal  significance  In  the  Platonic  philosophy! 

The  standard  of  revolt  raised  by  the  Cynics  was 
a  sign  of  the  times.  But  these  protestants  denied 
the  times  altogether.  That  Is,  their  assertion  of 
incompatibility  between  virtue  and  society  went  so 
far  as  to  be  irrational.  Nevertheless,  they  drew 
attention  to  the  fact  that,  as  amongst  men,  mutual 
understanding  supplies  the  only  available  basis  of 
social  Intercourse.     The  Greek  can  maintain  no 


68  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

monopoly  here.  If  society  can  compass  progress, 
the  instrument  is  intelligence,  and  anarchy  hap- 
pens to  be  discarnate  intelligence.  Along  with 
other  anarchists,  the  Cynics  err  in  an  effort  to  make 
*  rights  '  absolute,  and  succeed  by  insistence  upon 
a  truth  so  obvious  as  to  be  overlooked  constantly 
—  rights  are  empty  of  significance  save  for  in- 
dividuals. Matters  of  degree,  they  are  relative 
to  grades  of  reality.  Ascetic  discipline,  for  ex- 
ample, reveals  value,  if  it  enables  a  man  to  de- 
velop juster  estimate  of  the  worths  practicable  in 
human  life.  Yet,  even  this  issue  is  blank  failure, 
unless  others  profit,  nay,  unless  the  '  wise  man  ' 
profit  too,  by  the  reaction  of  his  fellows  to  his 
teachings.  For,  individuality  being  what  it  is,  its 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness.  Freedom 
strikes  no  root  in  self,  it  flourishes  amid  sub- 
stantial relations  between  selves.  "  Cancel 
these  .  .  .  and  morality  will  be  left  reasonable 
still,  but  paralysed;  possible  to  temperaments  com- 
paratively passionless,  but  with  no  grasp  on  ve- 
hement and  poetic  natures;  and  gravitating  to  the 
simply  prudential  wherever  It  maintains  its 
ground."  A  moral  life  is  quite  inconceivable 
apart  from  opportunity  to  select;  and.  In  so  far 
as  selection  Is  restricted  by  the  crudity  or  unfruit- 
fulness  of  society  —  it  is  limited!  In  so  far  as 
it  can  reach  greater  adequacy  of  expression.  It  pre- 
supposes  richer,   profounder,   finer  social   accom- 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  69 

panlments.  This  inexpugnable  dependence  upon 
society  may  be  termed  weakness,  if  you  please. 
The  judgment  means  nothing;  for  the  strength 
that  renders  weakness  apparent  is  itself  social.  To 
probe  the  nature  of  this  social  "  substance  which  is 
immanent  in  the  show  of  the  temporal  and  tran- 
sitory "  individuals,  and  is  affirmed  in  their  free- 
dom, forms  one  main  task  of  intelligence.  Thus, 
at  the  risk  of  giving  dire  offence  to  "  the  dema- 
gogic folk,"  who  are  as  ready  now  to  rant  about 
the  '  un-American  '  as  they  once  were  about  the 
'  un-Greek,'  we  must  recollect  that  "  freedom  to 
follow  a  line  of  business  presupposes  first  of  all  an 
established  police-power;  and  then  an  established 
system  of  currency,  of  transportation,  of  commer- 
cial law.  Freedom  to  realise  your  aims  in  a 
learned  profession  presupposes  well  developed 
schools.  Freedom  to  express  your  opinion  de- 
mands, first,  protection  from  the  mob,  and  then, 
on  a  higher  plane,  an  established  convention  of 
tolerance  and  fairness." 

Blind  to  the  paradox  that  leaders  of  men  are 
seldom  or  never  '  originals,'  the  Cynic  missed  all 
this.  Oppressed  by  the  old  self-sufficiency,  he 
could  not  know  that  moral  advance  always  imi- 
tates the  letter,  as  Socrates  did,  although,  in  spirit, 
he  was,  to  adopt  Homer's  phrase,  the  friend  of 
all  men,  not  of  the  Greek  merely.  It  is  true,  as 
the  Cynics  sensed  vaguely,  that  law  has  relation 


70  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

only  to  outward  acts,  and  that  paternalism  mis- 
conceives the  nature  of  morality.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  equally  true  that  rights  are  the  corre- 
lates of  duties.  The  great  '  free  spirits  '  are  free 
precisely  because  representative;  hence  their  au- 
thority. Sharpened  by  the  negative  in  Socrates, 
the  Cynics  perceived  that  personal  virtue  trans- 
cends the  local  conditions  of  the  Greek  state,  just 
as  our  anarchists  protest  that  it  transcends  the 
ways  of  contemporary  nationality.  But  both  go 
farther  and  fare  worse.  They  omit  to  insist  that 
virtue  can  never  neglect  all  ties  of  kin  and  folk. 
It  is  a  prize  hard  won  by  the  efforts  of  many,  not 
an  inalienable  possession  of  one.  Had  events  not 
cast  it  in  shadow,  the  positive  in  Socrates  would 
have  revealed  that  a  '  sufficient '  personal  life  in- 
cludes devotion  to  a  universal  reality.  In  short, 
as  the  Pythagorean  Socrates  taught,  morality  is 
linked  indissolubly  with  the  object  of  religion. 
The  '  philosopher  on  the  throne,'  perhaps  on  ac- 
count of  his  ecumenical  office,  taught  no  less,  even 
if  he  failed  to  pass  on  to  the  attendant  moral  ac- 
tivity. The  ''  soul  ranges  the  universe,  alike  the 
world  of  form  and  the  world  of  void,  and  reaches 
forth  into  eternity,  and  encompasses  and  compre- 
hends the  cyclic  regeneration  of  the  universe,  and 
perceives  that  our  fathers  had  no  fuller  vision, 
neither  will  our  children  behold  any  new  thing. 
.  .  .  And  yet  another  property  of  the  rational  soul 


THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL  71 

is  love  of  neighbours,  truth,  self-respect,  and  that 
supreme  self-reverence  which  is  likewise  an  at- 
tribute of  Law.  And  this  implies  that  the  law  of 
Reason  is  coincident  with  the  law  of  justice." 
With  Marcus  Aurelius,  the  old  world  says  its  last 
word,  one  manifestation  of  goodness  being  proven 
inadequate  to  complete  expression  of  the  good,  so 
closely  are  the  '  yea  '  and  the  '  nay  '  interwoven 
here  below.  For,  stung  by  his  own  universality, 
the  '  wise  man  '  ever  suffers,  being  in  advance  of 
his  time.  Nevertheless,  wisdom  deserts  him  the 
moment  he  would  reject  his  fellows,  and  keep  him- 
self to  himself.  Justified  partially  in  his  criticism 
of  the  follies  or  mischances  of  a  passing  day,  when 
civilisation  seems  to  stand  puzzled  at  the  cross- 
roads, he  can  be  justified  wholly  only  on  condition 
that  he  descry  the  practicable  remedy.  And,  for 
the  open  eye,  it  lies  near  at  hand.  The  cure  for 
the  known  defects  of  civilisation  is  —  more  civili- 
sation. In  this,  as  In  less  weighty  matters,  repudi- 
ation spells  bankruptcy. 


PLUTARCH  AND  HIS  AGE 

So  was  it  when  ?ny  life  began; 

So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man; 

So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old. 

Or  let  me  die!  .  .   . 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety, 

SYSTEMATIC  Philosophy  of  Religion  Is 
dated  usually  from  Hegel's  Lectures  on  the 
Philosophy  of  Religion,  published  In  1832 
from  the  notes  of  students.  Informal,  like 
all  lectures,  and  delivered  without  thought  of 
print,  nevertheless  "  their  very  artlessness  gives 
them  something  of  the  same  stimulating,  suggest- 
ive power  which  Is  attained  by  the  consummate 
art  of  the  Platonic  Dialogues."  Now  Hegel  is 
responsible,  not  merely  for  the  application  of  log- 
ical principles  to  the  development  of  religion,  but 
also  for  the  spread  of  those  expert  studies, 
known  as  the  Science  of  Religions,  based  upon  ob- 
jective historical  Investigation.  It  has  thus  come 
to  pass  that  the  Philosophy  of  Religion  Is  perplex- 
ing and  debatable  ground,  because  It  Involves  two 
problems,  distinct  in  type.  The  metaphysician  and 
the    student    of    religious    history    are    Interested 


PLUTARCH  73 

equally,  but  each  minimises  the  ofSce  of  the  other. 
Naturally  enough,  one  might  anticipate  that  diffi- 
culties of  the  greatest  magnitude  would  arise  with 
reference  to  first  principles;  and,  in  recent  years, 
progress  has  lagged  here  much  more  than  on  the 
historical  side.  Yet,  historical  issues  detain  the 
investigator  at  numerous  points,  nowhere  more, 
perhaps,  than  in  the  crowded  period  intervening 
between  the  death  of  Augustus  and  the  accession 
of  the  Antonines.  Here  '  Hellenism  '  and  '  Jew- 
ish-Alexandrianism  *  have  done  duty  as  peri- 
phrases for  mere  probability  or  for  compar- 
ative ignorance.  I  am  quite  aware  that  I 
have  not  been  able  to  penetrate  their  se- 
crets. But  the  conviction  has  grown  upon  me 
that,  despite  scholars  to  whom  Plutarch  is 
no  stylist,  and  thinkers  to  whom  he  is  no  philos- 
opher,— '*  a  philosophical  washerwoman," —  he 
represents  the  temper  of  his  age  more  suggestively 
than  his  contemporaries.  He  exhibits  at  once  the 
needs,  the  resources,  and  the  characteristic  pov- 
erty of  the  time.  As  is  well  known,  no  *single 
movement  exercised  decisive  influence,  for  the  old 
system  of  life  was  in  process  of  slow  dissolution, 
the  new  had  not  arisen  to  replace  it.  We  do  not 
find  a  religious  crisis,  a  philosophical  drift,  or  a 
moral  demand  so  emphatic  as  to  be  capable  of 
separate  treatment.  All  intermingle,  and  the 
resolution  of  enigmas  is  to  be  sought  mainly  by 


74  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

recourse  to  principles  that  can  be  set  forth  fully 
only  in  a  systematic  Philosophy  of  Religion. 
Meanwhile  it  may  suffice  to  accept  Miss  Julia 
Wedgwood's  apt  and  striking  suggestion:  "It  is 
not  impossible  that  a  second-rate  thinker  who 
stands  at  a  turning-point  in  history,  who  catches 
the  glow  of  a  coming  or  departing  age,  may  em- 
body more  of  the  thoughts  and  beliefs  interesting 
to  posterity  than  some  who  stand  in  the  front 
rank." 

Philosophy  always  preserves  a  certain  air  of  un- 
reality to  many  minds.  It  seems  to  withdraw 
from  contemporary  events,  or  to  concern  itself 
little  with  momentary  agitations  that  absorb  popu- 
lar attention  for  their  brief  hour.  What  once  was, 
as  the  contention  runs,  Philosophy  may  very  pos- 
sibly explain  post  factum,  but  immediate  problems 
obtain  no  heed.  This  average  attitude  of  sus- 
picion has  its  causes  in  the  nature  of  the  case. 
Thought  usually  cries  in  the  wilderness  of  its  own 
generation,  and  arrives  at  a  kingdom  later.  Not 
without  manifold  reasons.  Acquisition  of  the 
perspective  indispensable  to  real  grasp  upon 
spiritual  or  intellectual  achievements  is  a  slow 
business,  and  few  there  be  who  attain  it.  While 
the  goal  may  differ  little  from  age  to  age,  each 
epoch  views  it  under  distinctive  aspects;  So,  para- 
doxically. Philosophy  must  needs  meet  a  double 
condemnation.     Repelling   many,    because    it   ap- 


PLUTARCH  75 

pears  to  sit  remote  from  contemporary  commo- 
tions, these  very  flurries  affect  the  medium  through 
which  it  must  approach  its  own  problems.  Ac- 
cordingly, while  it  is  impossible  to  cast  the  bias  of 
the  time  behind  one's  back,  it  is  equally  impossible 
to  forget  that,  so  far  as  human  insight  goes,  this 
very  bias,  characteristic  of  all  epochs,  may  inti- 
mate the  final  problems.  Here,  at  least,  the  pe- 
culiar contribution  of  an  era  must  be  sought;  here 
materials  must  be  gleaned  for  praise  or  blame; 
here,  most  of  all,  if  not  entirely,  must  the  unseen 
and  eternal  be  winnowed  from  the  seen  and  tem- 
poral. Thus,  if  we  cannot  affect  to  recall  the 
Plutarchian,  or  any  other  period  as  it  actually  ap- 
peared in  its  completeness  to  the  actors  in  the 
drama,  we  are  not  left  without  a  guide  to  its  salient 
qualities.  They  conform  to  a  general  principle 
that  repeats  itself  endlessly  along  the  zigzag  trail 
of  human  aspiration. 

In  larger  outline,  the  great  movements  that  com- 
bine to  form  the  complex  heritage  of  the  present 
have  encountered  similar  vicissitudes.  The  ideal 
springs  are  tapped  unawares,  and  there  the  leaders 
of  the  morrow  refresh  themselves.  Thus  invigor- 
ated, they  shake  off  trammels  that  hinder  others, 
and  generate 

"  Thoughts   hardly   to  be   packed 
Into  a  narrow  act, 
Fancies  that  break  through  language  and  escape." 


76  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

So,  ideas  brimful  of  evangelical  fervour  go  forth 
to  the  masses,  turning  many  to  righteousness  by 
their  missionary  force,  renewing  the  life  of  a  city, 
a  people,  maybe  of  an  epoch.  Then  the  usual 
petrifaction  ensues.  Forms  suitable  for  preserva- 
tion of  the  precious  teaching  come  to  be  evolved, 
and  permanent  safety  is  sought  in  subservience  to 
them.  As  a  result,  idolatry  —  always  ubiquitous 
—  emerges  at  a  greater  or  lesser  interval.  Ob- 
servance  of  rites  ousts  vital  belief;  respectable  con- 
formity to  custom  does  duty  for  personal  holiness; 
and,  all  too  often,  hypocrisy,  most  hurtful  when 
least  conscious,  becomes  own  mother  to  iniquity. 
By  a  strange  somersault,  decent  indecency  rules 
the  roost.  When  this  sham  has  masqueraded  as 
reality  for  a  due  season,  detection  is  brought  to 
potent  birth  by  a  few  select  spirits,  of  whom  it  is 
recorded  sometimes,  "  he  hath  a  devil."  In- 
justices, lies,  miseries,  the  natural  brood  of  a  de- 
cadent stage,  beget  irritation  and  resentment. 
Unrest  and  criticism  trumpet  the  death  of  the  old 
oracles.  Such  junctures  tend  to  repeat  themselves ; 
and  they  evoke  either  an  imperative  demand  for  a 
return  to  ancient,  lost  aspirations,  or  a  no  less  ur- 
gent sense  of  need  for  a  new  revelation.  A 
Plutarch,  the  true  laudator  te^nporis  acti,  arises,  or 
a  prophet  rouses  the  land. 

As  some  investigators  would  urge  now,  grievous 
calumny  has  been  heaped  upon  the  Plutarchian     j 


PLUTARCH  77 

period.  Even  so,  It  were  needless  to  deepen  far- 
ther, by  a  touch  of  shadow,  the  awful  blackness 
that  brooded  over  many  of  Its  dark  places.  The 
Rome  of  Domltlan,  although  no  longer  the  metrop- 
olis of  that  hideous  egotist,  Nero,  still  bore 
faintest  adumbration  of  the  City  of  God.  But, 
while  making  this  admission,  we  have  been  too 
slow  to  recall  that  the  Mistress  of  the  World  was 
no  more  than  Mistress.  To  her  the  civilised  uni- 
verse might  Indeed  pertain;  she  did  not  mirror  it 
entirely.  The  profound  wistfulness  of  the  period, 
and  something  of  its  Incongruous  contentment, 
were  partly  obscured  at  the  Imperial  city. 
Plutarch  embodied  both  traits.  He  was  well 
aware  that  the  shrines  had  ceased  to  diffuse  inspi- 
ration; he  was  quite  conscious  that  the  former 
vocation  of  citizenship  no  longer  afforded  Ideals. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  interested  to  deploy  reasons 
for  the  lapse,  and  pleased  to  celebrate  vanished 
glories  won  under  a  past  dispensation.  "  You  dis- 
cuss what  ought  not  to  be  argued,  when  you  ques- 
tion the  opinion  we  hold  concerning  the  gods,  and 
ask  reason  and  proof  for  everything.  For  the 
hereditary  and  ancestral  faith  suffices.  ...  If 
you  demand  demonstration  about  each  of  the  old 
gods,  laying  hands  on  everything  sacred  and  play- 
ing your  sophistry  on  every  altar,  you  will  leave 
nothing  exempt  from  calumny  or  from  the  ordeal 
of  trial."     In  an  age  which,   as  no  other,   de- 


78  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

manded  and  received  its  sober  defender  of  the  old 
and  its  divine  revealer  of  the  new,  Plutarch  stood 
forth,  almost 

"  a  modern   gentleman 
Of  stateliest  port," 

as  the  epitomiser  and  apologist  of  Greek  culture 
under  Roman  rule.  He  felt  the  vacuity  of  re- 
ligion, shrank  from  the  flaccidity  of  morals,  but  he 
had  none  of  the  instant  self-sacrifice  —  an  intellec- 
tual virtue  mainly  —  that  seeks  to  safeguard  the 
future.  He  lacked  the  necessary  wisdom,  with  its 
just  perception  of  relative  values;  he  knew  no 
passion  for  truth.  Hence  he  fell  back  upon  an- 
tique supports,  and  became,  in  his  measure,  the  first 
modern  defender  of  divine  authority.  From  him, 
rather  than  from  any  of  his  more  brilliant 
contemporaries,  the  inward  import  of  that  mys- 
terious phrase,  '*  the  fulness  of  the  time,"  may  be 
gathered.  He  possesses  a  poise  foreign  to  the 
rest;  and  his  obvious  distaste  for  novel  extremes 
renders  him,  not  simply  genial,  but  eminently  help- 
ful to  the  student  of  the  spiritual  crisis.  Greatly 
daring,  but  with  rare  sagacity,  the  foremost  Eng- 
lish Plutarch  scholar  of  his  day  wrote :  "  Of  one 
special  class  of  students  —  I  mean  the  theological 
—  it  may  be  safely  said  that  they  would  receive 
more  direct  benefit  from  an  acquaintance  with  the 
Greek  of  Plutarch  than  from  a  study  of  the  great 


PLUTARCH  79 

masterpieces  of  the  Periclean  age."  ^  To  theo- 
logical and  philosophical  students  equally  Plutarch 
is  as  enthralling  and  important  as  Philo.  Each 
summed  up  the  tradition  of  the  civilisation  that 
bore  him.  But,  in  both,  the  old  culture  had  for- 
saken its  first  seat,  had  passed  into  the  mighty 
Roman  world  and  undergone  strange  transforma- 
tion. Greek  superstition  was  giving  laws  to  its 
conquerors,  Jewish  pride  of  race  was,  not  merely 
disdaining  or  suffering  the  Gentiles,  but  was  offer- 
ing them  yet  another  '  mystagogue.'  The  Boeo- 
tian and  the  Alexandrian  spoke  in  the  voice  of 
their  time,  for  they  were  at  one  in  their  curious  un- 
consciousness of  the  real  meaning  of  the  momen- 
tous change  that  was  just  upon  them. 

Like  Shakespeare,  Plutarch  had  no  biographer, 
and,  despite  his  skill  as  a  writer  of  lives,  he  left  no 
autobiography.  By  a  tantalising  fate,  materials 
for  even  a  bare  summary  of  the  chief  events  in  his 
career  are  scant.  We  are  unaware,  for  example, 
when  precisely  he  was  born  (about  50  A.  D.), 
when  he  died  (about  120  A.  D.),  when  he  visited 
Rome,  Egypt,  and  Gaul,  when  he  travelled  in 
Greece,  when  he  wrote  his  principal  works,  when 
he  held  such  offices  as  were  then  in  the  power 
of  his  countrymen  to  bestow.  True,  apposite  In- 
ferences may  be  drawn  with  high  probability  here 

^  H.  A.  Holden,  in  the  Introduction  to  his  edition  of  Plutarch's 
Life  of  Sulla,  p.  vi. 


8o  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

and  there.  But  it  Is  not  possible  to  trace  the  man's 
mental  development,  to  watch  his  growth  in  char- 
acter, to  mark  the  circumstances  wherein  the  vari- 
ous religious  Influences  that  he  must  have  experi- 
enced came  to  act  upon  his  views  of  faith  and  life. 
At  the  same  time,  as  In  other  conspicuous  Instances, 
counterbalancing  advantages  ought  to  be  re- 
marked. Minor  Issues  aside,  we  may  reconstruct 
the  person  from  the  Lives  and  the  Moralia.  Lib- 
erated from  the  trivialities  whereof  modern  book- 
making  Is  so  greedy,  we  can  calmly  meas- 
ure the  wider  sweep  of  the  writer's  mind,  and  con- 
centrate attention  upon  his  significant  mission  as 
the  least  sophisticated  reporter  of  his  own  era. 
In  many  ways,  his  abounding  naivete  bestows  fine 
compensation  for  his  unrecorded  biography.  His 
works  savour  of  himself,  and,  untouched  by  the 
deflecting  judgment  of  others,  we  keenly  enjoy 
face-to-face  communion  with  an  authentic  man. 
His  store  of  anecdotes  and  his  antiquarian  lore 
add  a  relish  to  his  graver  thought,  while  his  many 
moralislngs  portray,  not  merely  his  own  character, 
but  rather  his  entire  nature,  mellowed  and 
chastened  by  the  religious,  moral  and  political  con- 
ceptions of  the  day.  Our  acquaintance  being  thus 
direct,  Plutarch  wins  upon  us  and  sympathy  wells 
up.  It  is  not  hard  to  see  that  he  was  in  some 
sense  a  deeply  religious  man  living  in  an  age  when 
religion  had  sunk  to  superstition,  a  thinker  inter^ 


I 


PLUTARCH  8 1 

ested  In  metaphysical  and  ethical  problems,  medi- 
tating at  a  moment  when  an  effective  philosophy 
was  out  of  the  question.  Destined,  after  centuries 
of  travail,  to  transmute  some  hideous  evils,  the 
new  ideas  that  were  to  illumine  the  Roman  uni- 
verse, mysterious  then  beyond  the  ordinary, 
loomed  so  near  and  yet  so  far  that  none  but  puny 
souls  can  withhold  kindliness,  if  not  affectionate 
compassion,  from  this  noble  among  '  greeklings,' 
searching  for  light. 

The  more  Plutarch  enlists  fellow-feeling,  the 
more  one  realises  how  much  he  has  to  tell.  Hav- 
ing *  little  Latin,'  he  was  cut  off  in  a  measure  from 
the  chief  contemporary  writers.  Despite  his 
wealth  of  information,  he  does  not  quote  them, 
and  the  absence  of  their  influence  is,  to  say  the 
least,  surprising  to  modern  omniscience.  Conse- 
quently he  offers  a  free  presentation  of  his  own 
mind.  Sometimes  he  startles  the  reader  with  a 
novel  suggestion  that  might  have  proceeded  from 
the  nineteenth  century,  and,  taken  as  a  whole,  he 
conveys  a  complete  Impression  of  an  important  his- 
torical phase  such  as  can  be  obtained  nowhere  else 
now.  Without  the  exaggeration  of  Juvenal, 
Plutarch  has  a  truer  moral  interest;  without  the 
repressed  indignation  of  Tacitus,  he  turns  the  same 
affectionate  gaze  upon  the  good  old  times,  and  by 
them  would  fain  glorify  the  present;  without  the 
tittle-tattle  of  Suetonius,  he  is  as  bright  and  Inform- 


82  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

ing;  without  the  elaborate  learning  and  studied 
speech  of  many  grammarians  and  rhetoricians 
prominent  on  his  stage,  he  Is  more  Influential  and 
as  persuasive.  The  secret  lies  In  his  humanity  — 
a  quality  rare  always,  then  exceptional. 

Animas  servorum  et  corpora  nostra 
Materia    constare    putat    parlbusque    elementis. 

So  Juvenal  wrote.  Plutarch  cannot  rest  content 
with  these,  the  pious  sentiments,  to  which  some, 
more  distinguished  for  brilliancy  than  depth,  then 
gave  occasional  utterance.  He  must  needs  re- 
habilitate the  ancient  sanctions  of  morality  and  re- 
ligion, advancing  quaint  reasons,  and  never  per- 
mitting himself  to  stand  helplessly  dismayed  or  in- 
effectually enraged  before  present  defect.  If 
Pliny  Major  be  the  most  Instructive  representative 
of  the  culture  of  that  time,  Plutarch  Is  our  best  re- 
minder of  the  entire  spiritual  condition  —  of  Its 
spent  resources  no  less  than  of  Its  accumulating 
necessities.  And  as,  by  slow  degrees,  he  Intimates 
the  spirit  of  his  generation,  we  come  to  learn  that 
he  has  also  given  us  a  self-revelation  which  only 
the  ideal  biographer,  who  never  appears,  could 
have  furnished  forth.  The  potent  magnetism  of 
natural  honesty  receives  another  conspicuous  proof. 
Curiously  enough,  Plutarch's  very  attractiveness 
has  long  obscured  his  less  obvious  but  greatest 
merits.     His    Lives    claim     a    place     alongside 


PLUTARCH  83 

Homer,  Herodotus,  the  Bible,  the  '  Confessions  ' 
of  M.  Aurelius,  and  the  Imitation  of  Christ  in  that 
select  list  of  books  whither,  as  by  an  intuition  of 
close  kinship,  men  have  continually  resorted  for 
rejuvenation,  comfort,  or  wise  counsel.  Just  after 
Plutarch's  death,  his  works  acquired  influence. 
Beginning  with  Aristides,  the  apologist  for  Chris- 
tianity to  Hadrian  (about  133  A.  D.) ,  and  conclud- 
ing with  Sopater  of  Apamea  in  the  sixth  century, 
the  Lives  and  the  M  or  alia  were  quarried  for  in- 
formation, or  reproduced  wholesale  in  unblushing 
fashion.  When  the  Revival  of  Letters  rescued 
classical  literature,  Plutarch  resumed  his  place 
among  the  authors  who  "  can  never  be  read  with- 
out profit."  Erasmus  discerned  his  ethical  benig- 
nity at  the  very  outset  of  the  movement.  Scaliger 
knew  him.  The  French  in  particular  welcomed 
him  cordially.  Montaigne,  little  given  to  enthu- 
siasm, forgets  himself  over  Plutarch.  "  In  his 
Parallels  (which  is  the  most  admirable  part  of  all 
his  works,  and  with  which,  in  my  opinion,  he  is  him- 
self most  pleas'd)  the  fidelity  and  sincerity  of  his 
judgments  equal  their  depth  and  weight.  He  is  a 
philosopher  that  teaches  us  vertue.'^  After  Mon- 
taigne, Plutarch's  influence  flows  on  persistently 
through  French  literature;  and,  not  only  in  France, 
but  everywhere,  he  attracts  the  unlettered  many 
no  less  than  the  literate  few.  Amyot,  Rabelais, 
Boileau,   La    Fontaine,   Saint-Evremond,    Pascal, 


84  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Mollere,  Racine,  Montesquieu,  Rollin,  Saint- 
Pierre,  Marmontel,  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  La  Harpe, 
Mdme.  Roland,  De  Malstre,  Chateaubriand; 
Henri  Quatre  and  Turenne  among  men  of  action; 
the  Semlramis  of  the  North  among  great  women 
—  all  dwell  upon  him.  In  England,  Shakes- 
peare, Bacon,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Milton,  Words- 
worth, Macaulay  and  Browning  unite  to  accord 
him  the  sincerest  flattery  —  of  imitation.  Drydeii 
edits  a  translation  of  him,  and  is  more  widely  read 
therefor.  Emerson  expects  him  to  be  "  perpetu- 
ally rediscovered  from  time  to  time  as  long  as 
books  last."  Trench  pleads  for  a  better  compre- 
hension of  his  merits  on  the  basis  of  all  that  he 
wrote,  and  laments  its  long  delay.  Jean  Paul  and 
Neander  add  their  homage.  Finally,  as  if  to  em- 
phasise yet  again  Plutarch's  universal  appeal,  one 
of  the  most  thoughtful  women  and  one  of  the  most 
valiant  men  in  our  own  generation,  whose  paths 
circle  strikingly  apart  otherwise,  combine  to  sound 
his  praise.  "  He  may  almost  be  called  the  inter- 
preter of  Greece  and  Rome  to  modern  Europe," 
says  Julia  Wedgwood.  And  during  those  slow, 
sad  days  of  hope  deferred  at  Khartum,  the  ancient 
pagan  thinker  still  spoke  wisdom  to  the  latest  hero 
of  Christendom.  "  Certainly  I  would  make 
Plutarch's  Lives  a  handbook  for  our  young  of- 
ficers; it  is  worth  any  number  of  Arts  of  War  or 
Minor  Tactics.^*     These  brave  words,  with  others, 


PLUTARCH  8s 

were  penned  by  Gordon  —  a  relief  from  the  ago- 
nising anxieties  of  the  final  act  in  the  breathless 
drama  of  his  career. 

Yet,  despite  this  popularity,  perhaps  because  of 
it,  it  still  remains  true  that  men  enjoy  Plutarch, 
finding  pleasure  and  cheer  in  his  company,  and 
forthwith  put  him  aside.  Although  in  the  earlier 
centuries  of  the  Christian  era,  the  Lives  and  the 
Moralia  were  alike  plundered  impartially,  since 
the  Renascence  attention  has  been  concentrated 
with  unreasonable  exclusiveness  upon  the  former. 
In  practice,  so  many  have  acknowledged  the  unique 
allurement  of  the  Parallels  that  to  the  '  man  in 
the  street,'  If  not  to  the  professional  scholar, 
they  represent  the  most  readable  compendium  of 
classical  times,  and  constitute  a  main  channel 
through  which  the  influence  of  Greek  and  Roman 
culture  is  now  experienced  consciously.  Like 
Scott's  best  novels,  the  Lives  have  caught  the  mod- 
ern reader  through  the  story.  Their  worth  has 
been  taken  on  sight,  at  its  face  value,  as  it  were. 
Questions  seldom  obtrude  themselves,  for  does  not 
Plutarch  say,  "  I  am  not  writing  histories  but  lives, 
and  it  is  not  necessarily  in  the  famous  action  that  a 
man's  excellence  or  failure  Is  revealed;  but  some  lit- 
tle thing,  a  word  or  a  jest,  may  often  show  charac- 
ter better  than  a  battle  with  its  ten  thousand  slain." 
It  was  none  of  Montaigne's  or  of  Gordon's  part  to 
ask  whether  the  pictures   show   "  meni  as   they 


86  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

were  "  or  "  men  as  they  ought  to  have  been." 
The  ironical  censor  of  human  vanity,  and  the 
courageous  exemplar  of  a  chastened  self-reliance 
agreed  that  the  biographies  contained  more  than 
mere  characterisation.  But  they  did  not  tarry  to 
dwell  upon  reasons  or  to  probe  origins.  And  it 
thus  happens  that  the  Lives  have  held  the  field  to 
the  exclusion  of  the  M  or  alia.  Philosophers  have 
passed  Plutarch  by,  because  he  had  little  interest, 
and  less  competence,  in  ultimate  problems  —  no 
passion  for  truth  consumed  him;  scholars,  because 
he  did  not  write  Attic  Greek.  Nevertheless,  a 
large  portion  of  the  biographer's  charm  proceeds 
from  the  moralist's  insight,  and  nearly  all  the  edu- 
cative power  of  the  one  collection  derives  its  in- 
spiration from  the  inner  spirit  of  the  other. 

Plutarch  found  himself  confronted  by  decrepi- 
tude in  matters  that  pertain  to  the  things  that  can- 
not be  shaken.  For  his  own  satisfaction,  if  not 
always  for  that  of  others,  he  attempted  to  relieve 
doubt,  and  to  guide  aspiration  by  setting  forth  in 
semi-familiar,  semi-reflective  style  the  permanent 
merit  of  the  chief  beliefs  whereby  classical  pagan- 
ism had  sustained  its  faith.  The  "  teaching  of  ver- 
tue,"  according  to  Montaigne  the  note  of  the 
Parallels,  is  but  one  among  several  results  of 
Plutarch's  life-work.  The  appeal  to  the  select 
spirits  of  antiquity  consists  in  no  barren  catalogue 
of  their  misdeeds  or  achievements.     For,  even  in 


PLUTARCH  87 

detail,  Plutarch  seldom  relapses  Into  the  sign-post 
system  of  biography,  never  In  rounded  outline. 
With  the  possible  exceptions  of  Galba  and  Otho, 
the  figures  appear,  not  simply  as  men  who  were 
born  and  wrought  and  died,  but  as  embodiments 
of  devotion  to,  or  defection  from,  the  old  ideals 
that  the  writer  would  fain  revivify.  If  the  his- 
tory of  Herodotus  have  affinity  with  the  epic,  that 
of  Thucydides  with  the  drama,  Plutarchian  biog- 
raphy may  be  said  to  simulate  the  lyric.  It  ex- 
presses the  author's  personal  Interest,  springing,  as 
It  does,  from  his  sober  but  persistent  determination 
to  justify  the  old  paths  of  morality  and  religion  by 
reclaiming  them.  And  while  the  works  manifest 
little  external  unity,  the  pervasive  temper  of  the 
man  is  at  one  with  itself  throughout.  Insight  may 
tarry  often,  Intention  is  ever  plain.  Nay,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  this  very  intention  bestows  wis- 
dom, when  precision  of  knowledge  and  conscience 
for  evidence  are  far  to  seek.  Yet,  we  may  admit 
that  Plutarch's  inner  spirit  eludes  us  still.  And 
our  own  age  seems  so  like  his  In  some  salient  fea- 
tures that  the  effort  to  penetrate  his  secret  exerts  no 
little  seduction.  We  may  try  to  obtain  glints  at 
least  by  reference  to  the  ethical  environment. 

The  social  situation  in  the  Roman  Empire,  as 
the  first  century  swept  to  its  close,  held  a  strange 
medley  of  unassorted  opposites.  By  defect,  it 
presents  features  that  Irresistibly  entice  those  who 


88  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

indulge  the  habit  of  hysterical  denunciation.  The 
influence  exerted  by  the  highly  partial  '  historical  * 
argument,  still  deemed  a  necessary  accompani- 
ment of  Christian  apologetics  by  some,  has  made 
itself  felt  strongly  here.  On  the  other  hand,  and 
as  an  inevitable  consequence,  contrary  judgments 
may  be  cited  readily.  It  is  alleged,  for  example, 
that  in  this,  the  epoch  of  "  apathy,  debauchery  and 
cruelty  "  with  the  apologist,  "  men  sought  after 
moral  progress  with  a  zeal  which  the  Christians, 
if  they  ever  rivalled,  never  surpassed.  ...  If  you 
want  to  find  the  true  spirit  of  the  Founder  of  Chris- 
tianity, you  will  find  more  of  it  in  the  fragmentary 
literature  of  Paganism  than  in  all  the  works  of  the 
Fathers  put  together;  and  more,  not  merely  of  its 
spirit,  but  of  its  actual  expression,  in  Seneca  .  .  . 
or  Plutarch  than  in  Augustine,  Jerome,  and  all 
their  tribe."  In  short,  the  period  has  long  fur- 
nished, and  still  provides,  a  favourite  battle-ground. 
But  mutually  exclusive  inferences,  akin  only  in  ap- 
proximate equality  of  friendly  evidence,  are  trace- 
able as  a  rule  to  a  bias  arising  either  from  precon- 
ceived ideas,  or  from  a  special  purpose  in  the  in- 
terest of  which  the  records  have  been  approached. 
Moreover,  it  must  be  insisted  that,  in  the  present 
case,  take  it  from  what  angle  one  will,  a  just  esti- 
mate is  of  exceptional  difficulty.  Prepossessions, 
often  barely  distinguishable  from  prejudices,  satu- 
rate  the    very   atmosphere    we    breathe.     Moral 


■ 


PLUTARCH  89 

standards  are  so  different;  conditions  integral 
to  happiness  are  selected  upon  such  dissimilar 
grounds ;  and,  perhaps  most  of  all,  the  entire  fabric 
of  society  witnesses  to  the  operation  of  ideals  so 
antagonistic,  that  even  a  sympathetic  estimate  may 
be  baulked  of  precision.  At  the  same  time,  thanks 
in  part  to  recent  epigraphy,  exclusive  dependence 
need  no  longer  be  placed  upon  satirists  who  exist 
to  caricature,  upon  historians  who  trade  in  tale- 
bearing or  express  with  open  impatience  the  senti- 
ments of  a  deposed  class.  At  first  sight,  the 
prevalent  tone  of  Plutarch  contrasts  inexplicably 
with  that  of  Juvenal,  of  Suetonius,  or  of  Tacitus. 
And,  in  the  essay  to  reconstruct  the  conditions 
whence  our  author  sprang  —  relying  much  on  his 
own  remains, —  the  '  give  and  take  *  in  the  avail- 
able evidence  may  be  permitted  such  free  and  fair 
play  as  the  bias  of  contemporary  culture  allows. 

The  reporters,  whose  books  have  coloured  sub- 
sequent opinion  concerning  Plutarch^s  age,  were 
themselves  subject  to  plain  limitations.  Their  ac- 
counts cannot  be  taken  uncritically,  and  treated  as 
a  just  statement  of  the  whole  case.  Nay,  Plu- 
tarch's own  lapses,  when  he  mistook  poetry  for  his- 
torical fact,  afford  illustrations  in  point.  Even 
more  than  our  chief  centres  of  population,  Rome 
acted  as  a  magnet,  subtly  attracting  the  best  intel- 
lect, the  highest  ambition,  and  no  less  the  sordid 
and  adventurous  spirits  of  the  outspread  empire. 


90  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

The  heterogeneity  of  this  hived  humanity  has 
never  had  parallel  since,  Alexandria  in  her  '  palm- 
iest '  days,  London,  and  New  York  notwithstand- 
ing. The  spirit  of  the  republican  city-state,  im- 
pelling for  all  its  severity,  had  evaporated.  Rome 
had  ceased  to  originate  moral  guarantees,  having 
become  rather  a  receptacle  for  the  shot  virtues 
and  vices  of  the  world,  bent  upon  satisfaction  after 
their  kind.  As  a  consequence,  "  Parthians,  and 
Medes,  and  Elamties,  and  the  dwellers  in  Meso- 
potamia, and  in  Judaea,  and  Cappadocia,  in  Pontus, 
and  Asia,  Phrygia,  and  Pamphylia,  in  Egypt,  and 
in  the  parts  of  Libya  around  Cyrene,  Jews  and 
proselytes,  Cretes  and  Arabians  "  rubbed  shoulders 
there;  yet  each  retained  his  cultural  tradition  in 
large  measure.  Accordingly,  the  notable  writers, 
their  moment  bending  their  intuitions,  confined 
themselves  to  familiar  aspects  of  this  motley  as- 
semblage; and,  where  talent  is  concerned,  famili- 
arity tends  to  be  distributive. 

True,  the  poets  are  at  one  negatively;  they  have 
escaped  the  wistful  sadness  of  their  predecessors 
—  of  Lucretius,  and  Catullus,  of  Virgil  especially. 
Positively  they  differ  from  each  other,  even  al- 
though they  agree  to  employ  satire  as  a  medium. 
The  obscure  allusiveness  of  Persius,  the  stinging 
exaggeration  of  Juvenal,  the  elaborate  heroics  of 
Lucan,  the  lively  dialogue  of  Petronius,  the  mor- 
dant epigram  of  Martial,  constitute  a  single  illus- 


PLUTARCH  91 

tration  of  the  manner  in  which  literature  parades 
morals.  These  qualities  are  traceable  severally, 
not  so  much  to  that  essential  extract  which  is  of 
an  age,  as  to  the  specific  conditions  and  oppor- 
tunities pertaining  to  individuals.  Persius'  educa- 
tion, Juvenal's  contempt  for  the  servility  of  the 
parvenu,  Lucan's  rhetorical  ingenuity,  blind  to 
ideals,  Petronius'  unerring  eye  for  minor  manners, 
Martial's  cynicism,  were  determining  factors  in 
their  respective  views  of  contemporary  life.  Each 
sees  differently,  and  for  different  reasons;  not  one 
arrests  "  the  flying  moment;  "  its  likeness  escapes 
his  most  beautiful  shapes.  Regarded  collectively 
even,  they  leave  this  sense  of  failure,  for  they  are 
not 

"  The  only  speakers  of  essential  truth, 
Opposed  to  relative,  comparative 
And  temporal  truths." 

Thus  It  were  a  fallacy  to  take  the  Messalinas  and 
Trimalchios  for  types  of  mankind,  to  forget  that 
they  are  representative  of  small  coteries.  In 
the  same  way,  not  only  matters  of  opinion, 
but  an  appreciable  element  set  down  as  mat- 
ter of  fact,  say  by  Tacitus^  must  be  appraised 
in  the  light  of  his  truly  Roman  severitas;  by  Sue- 
tonius, with  deductions  enforced  by  his  obvious 
partiality  for  scandal.  Be  they  poets,  be  they  his- 
torians or  biographers,  the  '  divine  soliloquy '  Is 


92  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

not  caught  on  the  inward  ear  of  any,  for  it  cannot 
be  said  that  the  "  skies  are  genial  and  the  earthly 
air  propitious."  The  kaleidoscopic  traits  of  the 
great  city  distract  all  so  much  that  not  one  enjoys 
"  final  rest  atop  the  mount;  "  thus  they  miss  the 
wisdom  necessary  to  finer  insight.  Not  that 
they  falsify,  but  each  Is  content  to  cultivate  his  own 
corner  of  the  garden.  They  possess  an  Identity 
principally  because  personal  opinions  lord  it  over 
universal  conceptions.  •  Even  Pliny's  praise  of  the 
present  is  obliquely  put  In  a  disparagement  of  the 
past,  and  for  this  there  is  a  reason  in  which  he  has 
private  interest.  Ideals,  when  they  come  to  the 
surface.  Immediately  disclose  their  ancient  lineage ; 
seldom  are  they  born  of  the  moment.  A  bewilder- 
ing medley  of  temporary,  one  might  almost  say  ac- 
cidental, qualities  receives  vivid  delineation;  but 
of  the  hidden  forces  that  silently  sway  the  multi- 
tude In  the  background  few  glimpses  are  afforded. 
While,  then,  Plutarch's  contemporaries  failed 
to  epitomise  the  era,  they  preserved,  and  with 
keen  zest,  many  prominent  characteristics  little 
creditable  for  the  most  part  to  the  society  of  the 
day.  Their  tone,  too,  bears  unmistakable  witness 
to  the  dearth  of  fructifying  motives,  or,  perhaps, 
to  the  absence  of  opportunities  that  might  have 
originated  for  them  also  the  Plutarchian  glimmer 
of  the  single  constructive  tendency  of  the  time. 
Critical  mission  they  had  and  to  spare.     But  they 


PLUTARCH  93 

were  blind  to  the  ultimate  significance  of  the 
Pagan  Reaction.  Accordingly,  they  never  adopted 
the  VIrglllan  motto,  applicable  so  happily  to  the 
Chaeronean  sage  —  Sacra  deosque  daho.  Even 
Juvenal,  the  most  trenchant  of  the  group,  shows 
small  ability  to  read  the  signs  of  the  times. 

"Our  past  is  clean  forgot, 
Our  present  is  and  Is  not, 
Our  future's  a  sealed  seed   plot, 
And  what  betwixt  them  are  we?  " 

The  truth  is  that,  no  matter  how  valuable  the 
clues  offered  by  the  Roman  writers,  this  period 
can  be  understood  approximately  only  by  refer- 
ence to  the  religious  and  social  presuppositions  of 
which  it  was  the  last  and,  in  many  respects,  the 
decadent  expression.  These  principles,  intertwin- 
ing more  and  more  inextricably  from  crisis  to 
crisis,  alone  explain  and  justify  many  common 
qualities  that  must  be  associated  always,  for  the 
modern  mind,  with  the  unhappiness  inseparable 
from  civic  inequality.  They  also  expose  much  real 
weakness  which  we,  befogged  by  our  tolerant  senti- 
mentalism,  are  prone  to  set  aside  too  lightly. 

The  attempt  to  resuscitate  the  ancient  classical 
spirit,  projected  by  several  recent  poets,  proves 
how  apt  we  are  to  overlook  the  great  gulf  fixed 
between  the  Graeco-Roman  world  and  ourselves. 
The  formative  ideas,  in  obedience  to  which  modern 


94  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

society  has  fashioned  itself,  contain  their  own  dis^ 
tinctive  essence.  And,  while  classical  learning  re- 
mains an  important  part  of  contemporary  Euro- 
pean education,  no  less  a  pregnant  source  of  the 
refinements  that  mark  true  knowledge,  one  cannot 
allege  that  Greek  and  Latin  are  as  they  were  for 
Athenian  or  Roman.  They  have  put  on  a  spiritual 
body.  They  are  factors  in  a  new  creation,  and 
contact  with  many  strange,  but  integral,  influences 
has  transformed  their  pristine  nature.  Different 
sentiments  determine  our  morality;  other  purposes 
condition  our  social  arrangements;  more  than  aught 
else,  the  revelation  derived  from  another  religion 
has  rendered  our  life  concentric  to  a  fresh  con- 
ception of  the  measure  of  manhood  and  the  voca- 
tion of  humanity.  Inevitably,  these  later  ideals 
betray  their  own  limitations,  inducing  peculiar  de- 
fects that  breed  sad  consequences  In  the  resultant 
organisms  of  religion,  morality,  politics  and  liter- 
ature. Yet,  despite  reformers  who  bewail  them- 
selves occasionally  that  the  sins  of  Rome,  Alex- 
andria and  Corinth  may  be  matched  in  London  and 
Paris  and  Berlin,  in  New  York  and  Chicago  and 
San  Francisco,  the  blemishes  are  not  those  of  the 
old  pagan  world.  The  fabric  is  of  another  sort. 
If  it  be  true,  for  the  classical  as  for  the  modern 
state,  that 

"  All  are  needed  by  each  one ; 
Nothing  is  fair  or  good  alone," 


* 


PLUTARCH  95 

it  Is  true  In  a  widely  different  sense.  And  the  key 
to  the  divergence  lies  In  the  contrasted  views  of 
personality,  of  the  value  and  use  of  individual  life. 
To  understand  Plutarch's  age,  to  appraise  Its 
needs  and  resources,  It  Is  indispensable  to  cast  aside 
the  media  implied  In  phrases  such  as  '  the  rights 
of  man,'  and  to  reconstruct  In  thought  all  that  was 
once  signified  by  '  the  duties  of  the  citizen.'  Our 
historical  descent  involves  us,  all  unwitting,  in  con- 
stant emphasis  upon  the  privileges  —  the  dues  — 
of  manhood.  We  realise  the  meaning  of  Paul's 
question  without  difficulty,  and  we  place  a  definite 
interpretation  upon  Its  consequences.  "  And 
when  they  had  tied  him  up  with  the  thongs,  Paul 
said  to  the  centurion  that  stood  by.  Is  it  lawful  for 
you  to  scourge  a  man  that  is  a  Roman  and  uncon- 
demned?  .  .  .  The  chief  captain  also  was  afraid 
when  he  knew  that  he  was  a  Roman,  and  because 
he  had  bound  him."  But  we  are  liable  to  forget 
that,  while  the  '  political  animal '  of  Aristotle  en- 
joyed rights,  he  paid  an  extortionate  price,  as  our 
current  estimate  would  run.  For,  citizenship  was 
not  merely  exclusive.  The  situation  Involved 
something  more  than  a  division  into  Greek  and 
barbarian,  or  into  Roman  citizen,  subject  nation- 
ality, and  slave.  Political  recognition  was  based 
on  a  total  deprivation  of  '  liberty  '  as  we  under- 
stand the  term.  The  free-born  citizen  merged  his 
humanity  in  his  citizenship.     And  in  the  earlier 


96  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

days  of  the  classical  world,  he  remained  uncon- 
scious of  any  loss;  his  sole  vocation  was  govern- 
ment; he  received  back  double  for  everything  he 
bestowed.  The  strength  of  the  city-state,  while 
in  full  bloom,  flowed  from  that  subjection  to  it  in 
which  its  members  found  the  only  perfect,  because 
the  only  conceivable,  freedom.  It  was  the  Utopia, 
the  good  place.  Take  Plutarch's  statement  about 
Theseus:  "Now,  after  the  death  of  his  father 
i^geus,  forming  in  his  mind  a  great  and  wonderful 
design,  he  gathered  together  all  the  inhabitants  of 
Attica  into  one  town,  and  made  them  one  people 
of  one  city,  whereas  before  they  lived  dispersed, 
and  were  not  easy  to  assemble  upon  any  affair  for 
the  common  interests.  .  .  .  He  dissolved  all  the 
distinct  state-houses,  council  halls,  and  magistra- 
cies, and  built  one  common  state-house  and  council 
hall  on  the  site  of  the  present  upper  town,  and  gave 
the  name  Athens  to  the  whole  state,  ordaining  a 
common  feast  and  sacrifice,  which  he  called  the 
Panathenaea,  or  the  sacrifice  of  all  the  united 
Athenians."  Then  take  Plato's  definition  of  jus- 
tice: "  What  at  the  commencement  we  laid  down 
as  a  universal  rule  of  action,  when  we  were  found- 
ing our  state,  this,  if  I  mistake  not,  or  some  modi- 
fication of  it,  is  justice.  I  think  we  affirmed,  if 
you  recollect,  and  frequently  repeated,  that  every 
individual  ought  to  have  some  one  occupation  in 
the  state,  which  should  be  that  to  which  his  natural 


J 


PLUTARCH  97 

capacity  was  best  adapted.  .  .  .  That  fourth  prin- 
ciple in  every  child  and  woman,  in  every  slave, 
freeman  and  artisan,  in  the  ruler  and  in  the  sub- 
ject, requiring  each  to  do  his  own  work,  and  not  to 
meddle  with  many  things."  These  passages  pre- 
sent in  broad  outline  the  presuppositions  of  the  de- 
velopment of  classical  society.  Every  one  revelled 
in  a  freedom  possible  only  within  the  social  medium 
of  a  comparatively  small  city,  but  his  city.  No  one 
sensed  the  sacrifice  unavoidably  resultant.  Allow- 
ing for  certain  lapses,  civic  vocation  supplied  room 
and  to  spare  for  action  and  avocation  —  till  the 
empire  engulfed  the  world.  Nevertheless,  every 
one  was  bound  as  a  man  through  the  whole  period. 
As  Mommsen  says,  the  citizen^s  duty  was  to  rule 
his  own  household,  and,  for  the  rest,  to  be  the 
obedient  subject  of  the  state.  So  long  as  all  went 
well,  the  legitimate  authority  might  respect  its  own 
limits;  but,  these  forgotten,  the  magnitude  of  the 
price  became  evident  —  and  too  late. 

The  pregnant  issues  developed  naturally  from 
this  semi-socialistic  conception  constitute  the  inner 
history  of  classical  civilisation.  The  ultimate 
ubiquitousness  of  Greek  culture  was  conditioned 
by  the  subjugation  of  Hellas  to  Macedonia,  of 
Achala  to  Rome.  The  Hellenes,  finding  them- 
selves bereft  of  their  old  political  interests,  became 
the  evangelists  of  education,  and  so  *  gave  laws  to 
the  conquerors.'     The  sadness  of  the  later  Greek 


98  THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

thinkers  is  a  corollary  to  their  criticism  of  a  past 
ideal,  and  to  their  debility  in  the  search  for  a  sub- 
stitute. Their  continuous  unrest  is  that  of  the  cit- 
izen torn  from  his  city;  their  occasional  happiness, 
that  of  rediscovering  the  old  vocation  anew,  though 
attenuated  sorely,  in  the  city-ruled  empire  of  the 
known  world.  And  with  Plutarch,  as  with  the 
dumb  millions  In  his  day,  the  latter  Is  for  a  little 
the  predominant  sentiment.  Man,  untroubled  by 
recognition  of  his  absolute  value  as  such,  evinces 
no  regret  consequent  upon  a  comparison  of  what 
he  Is  with  what  It  Is  in  him  to  be.  But  the  citizen 
sometimes  bemoans  the  once  Athens  and  the  un- 
bending aristocratic  spirit  of  old  Rome.  Yet,  for 
the  most  part,  he  accepts  —  and  thankfully  —  the 
Pax  Romana  as  compensation  for  loss,  and  the  ac- 
complished facts  of  the  time  generate  something 
of  contentment  by  their  sheer  immensity.  Like 
Virgil,  Plutarch  is  fain  to  laud  Rome  — "  the  most 
beautiful  of  all  the  works  of  man." 

Thus  it  may  be  said  —  not.  Indeed,  as  the  latter- 
day  democrat  would  judge,  but  within  the  servitude 
of  humanity  to  the  passion  for  citizenship  —  that 
Plutarch's  age  held  means  of  consolation  for  many. 
In  the  person  of  Divus  Casar,  Theseus  had 

"  Come  again  and  twice  as  fair; 
Come 
With  all  good  things,  and  war  shall  be  no  more." 


PLUTARCH  99 

And,  although  there  was  no  new  Athens,  no  re- 
vived patrician  order,  the  splendour  of  the  empire, 
everywhere  apparent,  dazzled  masses  into  believ- 
ing that  the  golden  age  had  arrived  at  length. 
Peace  on  earth  had  ended  the  hideous  suffering 
caused  by  civil  war;  there  was  good-will,  not  in- 
deed to  men,  but  to  those  who  acquiesced  in  Roman 
supremacy.  The  world  may  have  been  dead,  but 
Rome  seemed  so  living  that  faith  in  rejuvenescence 
by  drafts  upon  her  energy  was  not  unnatural. 

Indications  of  this  general  expectancy,  to  which 
Plutarch  gave  plain  utterance,  are  frequent. 
Speaking  generally,  and  omitting  details  for  the 
moment,  there  can  be  little  question  that  the  reign 
of  Augustus  was  hailed,  not  simply  by  a  later  and 
idealising  generation,  but  by  men  of  the  time,  as 
the  dawn  of  a  better  day.  The  gods  were  charg- 
ing themselves  with  the  care  of  men  after  an  ob- 
livious interval  so  long  that,  but  for  folk-memory, 
the  gap  must  have  yawned  impassable.  Thanks 
to  folk-memory,  once  more,  this  was  recognised 
even  by  the  people  —  by  the  silent  multitude  that 
ultimately  shapes  the  destinies  of  civilisation.  The 
internecine  factions  and  horrid  turbulence  of  the 
later  Republic  gave  place  to  the  strong  and,  in  Its 
way,  beneficent  rule  of  a  single  will,  guaranteeing 
grateful  liberty  to  undertake  ordinary  business  with 
reasonable  assurance  of  effective  protection.     As  a 


loo         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

sequel,  an  expansive  system  of  mythology  sprang 
up  round  the  name  of  the  dead  Caesar.  A  similar 
contentment,  but  charged  on  this  occasion  with  a 
larger  element  of  hope  for  the  immediate  future, 
thanks  to  contrast  with  the  nearest  past,  marked 
the  outset  of  Nero's  principate.  The  youth  started 
with  generous  intentions,  and  he  is  commonly  re- 
ported to  have  acted  up  to  them.  More  than 
likely,  however,  the  *  Golden  Quinquennium  *  was 
due  to  the  wise  policy  of  Seneca  and  to  the  rigid 
good  faith  of  Burrus.  The  emperor  was  still  in 
their  leading-strings,  and  while  he  thus  remained, 
things  went  well.  But  this  touching  confidence 
proved  baseless  all  too  soon.  The  stock  that 
spawned  Caligula  and  Claudius  had  yet  another 
degeneration  to  reveal.  The  ''  heartless  buffoon  " 
broke  loose,  and  the  prasens  Divus,  mortally  In- 
tent to  win  securer  eminence  by  denuding  his  vicin- 
ity of  strength,  intellect  and  virtue  distinguished 
enough  to  command  admiration,  cut  down  the  "  tall 
stalks."  Yet,  even  at  this.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  the  judgment  of  Tacitus  on  the  murderous 
Caesars  is  full  of  point:  Savi  proximis  ingruunt. 

Not  till  the  localised  horrors  of  Nero's  rule  had 
been  spread  abroad  by  the  general  miseries  of  civil 
war,  when  emperors  came  to  the  Golden.  House 
and  departed  "  as  If  they  were  players  in  a  booth, 
going  on  the  stage  and  off  again,"  to  use  Plutarch's 
apt  metaphor,  did  the  trouble  lay  heavy  hand  upon 


PLUTARCH  loi 

the  whole  body  of  the  people.  Then,  once  more, 
and  again  to  a  great  extent  by  contrast,  hope,  even 
confidence  emerged.  Vespasian  was  the  deliverer 
risen  in  the  East.  On  this  occasion,  expectation 
was  to  be  justified  of  her  children.  After  Domi- 
tian,  possibly  during  his  reign,  there  is  a  species  of 
return  to  the  outward  prosperity  of  the  Augustan 
Jubilee.  The  heart-sickness  of  hope  deferred  dies 
away.  Making  allowance  for  his  confusion  of  re- 
ligion with  theology  and  his  consequent  misprision 
of  the  spiritual  crisis.  Gibbon  has  placed  on  record 
the  judgment  which  sums  this  period  most  point- 
edly, if  somewhat  too  absolutely:  "  If  a  man  were 
called  to  fix  the  period  in  the  history  of  the  world, 
during  which  the  human  race  was  most  happy  and 
prosperous,  he  would,  without  hesitation,  name  that 
which  elapsed  from  the  death  of  Domitian  to  the 
accession  of  Commodus."  The  deliverance  is  of 
general  application.  It  might  be  said  of  the  Brit- 
ish, in  the  same  way,  that  the  Victorian  era  has 
been  the  time  of  their  greatest  happiness  and  pros- 
perity. Nevertheless,  in  so  declaring,  detailed 
reference  to  the  inordinate  lust  of  some  few,  whom 
sudden  wealth  had  ruined,  to  the  undisguised  scep- 
ticism of  many,  upset  by  half-culture,  to  patent  in- 
justices, if  not  crimes,  among  all  classes  —  special 
effects  springing  from  the  implications  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  social  order  —  would  be  left  out  of 
conspicuous    consideration.     So,    too,    with    the 


102         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Roman  Empire.  The  progressive  sweep  of  the 
civilisation  Is  grandiose;  and  from  this  very  fact 
a  spirit  of  self-satisfaction  stalks  abroad,  throwing 
Into  shadow  many  shameful  deeds,  distracting  at- 
tention from  certain  foul  customs,  and  drowning 
the  cry  of  much  awful  misery  in  its  world-resound- 
ing tramp.  It  has  been  the  fate  of  the  Roman 
Empire  (and,  not  unlikely  it  may  be  that  of  our 
federated  commercialism,  enshrined,  as  its  excres- 
cences are,  in  the  newspaper  press)  that  the  dirt, 
the  dishonour,  and  the  squalor  have  assumed  un- 
due proportions  with  a  later  age.  New  standards 
have  led  observers  to  see  the  black  spots  larger, 
to  forget  that,  after  all,  overt  wickedness  was  then 
the  luxury  of  the  few,  as  it  must  ever  be.  Doubt- 
less the  principles  implicit  in  ancient  society  re- 
sulted In  judgments  whereat  we  may  well  stand 
aghast.  But,  In  the  nature  of  things,  humanity  it- 
self could  not  have  been  fundamentally  different. 
Oppression  may  not  have  seemed  oppression  as  we 
now  think,  but  torture  and  death  and  disregard  of 
man's  dearest  relationships  cannot  but  have  over- 
whelmed many  with  a  frightful  burden.  And  thus 
a  dumb,  hopeless  acquiescence,  destructive  of  spon- 
taneous aspiration,  cast  a  shadow  over  the.  outward 
prosperity  of  the  world-state  —  a  shadow  not  of 
earth,  but  of  the  spirit. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  benefits  of  Roman  rule, 
in  the  shape  of  a  settled  social  system,  of  safety 


PLUTARCH  103 

in  commerce  and  travel,  of  opportunity  in  educa- 
tion, and  of  free  intercourse  between  folk  of  the 
most  various  races  through  the  media  of  two  lan- 
guages, together  universally  understood,  contrib- 
uted to  the  spread  of  stability,  toleration,  wealth, 
and  other  accompaniments  of  prosperity.  The 
wisdom  of  the  Roman  administration  had  been 
such  that,  with  two  significant  exceptions  —  the 
Egyptians  and  the  Jews  —  the  subject  nationalities 
had  almost  forgotten  their  former  independence, 
and  evinced  few  traces  of  desire  to  regain  it. 
Cosmopolitanism,  due  to  long  contact  with  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  had  softened  Roman 
hardness, —  even  the  straitest  sect  of  the  Stoics 
had  relaxed  its  traditional  austerity.  The  vigour 
of  several  of  the  recent  provinces,  like  Gaul  and 
Germany,  had  done  something  towards  regenerat- 
ing the  Italians,  depressed  to  effeteness  by  mone- 
tary exactions,  evictions,  and  civil  strife.  Strenu- 
ous efforts  were  put  forth  to  reorganise  agriculture 
in  the  '  home  counties.'  On  the  whole,  the  em- 
perors were  distinguished,  not  by  clemency  alone, 
but  also  by  an  undeniable,  if  partial,  practice  of 
their  profession  —  to  revert  to  the  civic  traditions 
of  the  best  republican  times.  Military  training, 
still  in  fashion,  afforded  scope  for  the  exercise  of 
restraint,  and  offered  a  school  for  the  inculcation 
of  obedience,  valour,  and  self-discipline ;  while,  de- 
spite their  unsavoury  associations,  it  is  by  no  means 


104         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

clear  that  the  Lanistae  did  not  exert  similar  influ- 
ence. Finally,  as  Plutarch's  Symposia  prove, 
there  was  another  side  to  the  vulgar  philistinisni' 
of  the  orgy  of  Trimalchio.  Men  of  culture  and 
learning  had  their  place.  A  quiet  social  life,  in 
which  rational  conversation  and  sane  enjoyment 
played  a  chief  part,  flourished.  Despite  the  mar- 
riage of  usus  and  the  exposure  of  children,  domes- 
ticity was  not  dead.  In  other  words,  only  a  small 
minority  felt  the  pinch  of  '  keeping  up  appear- 
ances '  experienced  by  those  who  lived,  for  the 
sake  of  brief  and  scandalous  notoriety,  among  the 
fashionable  who  frequented  the  metropolis  and  its 
appanages,  the  pleasure-cities.  The  inscriptions 
afford  clear  evidence  of  this.  And,  as  has  been 
said,  in  estimating  these  signs,  care  must  be  taken 
to  eschew  comparison  with  modern  judgments. 
For,  as  Lecky  observes,  to  fall  below  the  standard 
of  a  merciful  age  is  often  in  reality  to  be  far  worse 
than  those  who  have  conformed  to  the  judgment 
of  a  barbarous  time. 

On  general  and  special  grounds  alike,  evidence 
abounds  to  prove  that  Plutarch's  age  is  not  repre- 
sented fairly  by  pushing  to  the  front  the  '  favour- 
ites '  of  that  ironical  goddess.  Fortune,  who,  after 
their  kind  in  all  ages,  strutted  a  short  hour  in  ex- 
quisite circles  at  the  capital  and  at  those  centres  of 
self-indulgence  where  metropolitan  '  society '  was 
aped.     On  the  contrary,  when  the  immense  num- 


PLUTARCH  105 

ber  of  Roman  citizens  Is  taken  Into  account,  Gib- 
bon's allegation  comes  nearer  the  mark.  Much 
misery  there  was  and  no  little  oppression.  But, 
writing  off  our  modern  ways  of  judgment,  and  add- 
ing the  blessings  of  security  and  plenty,  there  were 
manifold  reasons  for  confidence,  many  causes  for 
that  thankful  cheerfulness  so  consistently  present  in 
Plutarch.  Whatever  their  depth,  the  social  evils 
that  some  of  his  contemporaries  were  so  forward 
to  advertise  do  not  seem  to  have  penetrated  the 
people  deeply  enough  to  deflect  the  bent  of  the 
average  man.  Then,  as  now,  the  exceptional  re- 
ceived flamboyant  notice,  the  abnormal  or  patho- 
logical was  reported  with  avidity.  A  good  *  story  ' 
must  needs  be  *  written  up.'  The  great  bulk  of 
genial  deeds  done;  of  duties  faithfully  fulfilled 
day-In,  day-out;  of  kindnesses  extended  unostenta- 
tiously, have  no  historian.  Yet  in  them  lies  the 
general  savour  of  average  life.  Accordingly,  we 
are  forced  to  conclude  that  Plutarch  found  not  a  lit- 
tle of  vaster  moment  than  damnable  vice,  unspeak- 
able foulness,  and  hateful  cruelty  among  the  many 
prominent  qualities  of  the  end  of  the  first  and  the 
beginning  of  the  second  century  of  grace. 

But  If,  taking  all  the  evidence  Into  consideration, 
Plutarch's  age  is  to  be  regarded  as  fairly  happy 
and  prosperous  —  happy  and  prosperous  beyond 
the  average  possibly  —  what  of  the  other  side? 
What   of   *'  the   universal   corruption "   that   has 


io6         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

evoked  such  a  stream  of  denunciation?  Here,  as 
before,  it  is  necessary  to  fall  back  upon  the  prin- 
ciples involved  in  the  historical  evolution  of  class- 
ical society.  The  free-born  citizen,  though  quite 
unconscious  of  the  fact,  enjoyed  his  privileges  at 
great  cost.  Man  was  not  sacred  because  of  his 
humanity,  but  on  account  of  his  nationality.  The 
city-state  imparted  its  virtue  to  the  citizens  only. 
In  exchange  it  received  their  lives  —  a  free-will 
offering,  no  doubt,  embodying  the  contemporary 
idea  of  freedom.  When,  in  consequence,  benefits 
really  accrued  to  individuals,  the  most  characteristic 
contribution  of  classical  civilisation  to  the  advance 
of  mankind  emerged,  as  in  the  Athens  of  Pericles, 
and  in  the  spacious  days  of  the  Roman  common- 
wealth. But,  when  one  city  sucked  vitality  from 
all  the  world,  and  proved  unable  to  render  fair  re- 
turn in  the  shape  of  civic  virtues,  a  potent  cause 
of  inward  stagnation,  and  consequent  corruption, 
appeared.  Even  in  the  palmiest  years  of  the  Em- 
pire, but  especially  in  that  portion  of  them  to  the 
beginnings  of  which  Plutarch  belongs,  this  defect 
irritated  more  or  less.  Men  everywhere  felt, 
though  they  could  not  explain,  the  decline.  Yet, 
even  so,  a  chief  reason  for  the  prevalence  of  the 
mood  is  to  be  sought,  not  in  disregard  of  the 
rights  of  manhood  as  concerns  citizens,  but  in  the 
poisonous  effects  emanating  from  an  enormous 
slave  population. 


I 


PLUTARCH  107 

For  a  time,  when  civic  virtue  flourished,  slavery 
may  have  been  of  positive  advantage.  The  condi- 
tions whence  Greek  art,  literature  and  philosophy 
sprang  implied  the  presence  of  a  leisure  class,  of  a 
class  in  whose  outlook  leisure  formed  a  determin- 
ing element.  In  like  manner,  the  Roman  genius 
for  government  had  similar  presuppositions. 
While,  in  its  origin,  amongst  savage  peoples,  slav- 
ery is  no  more  than  another  Illustration  of  man's 
inveterate  desire  to  aggrandise  self,  it  exhibits 
higher  qualities  in  the  socialised  community  of  the 
city-state.  As  the  spirit  of  this  organisation  led 
the  citizen  to  give  himself  for  his  privileges,  so  it 
forced  the  slave  to  give  himself  for  his  life.  He 
thus  became  an  integral  part  of  the  polity,  and 
gained,  if  not  rights,  at  least  that  consideration 
apart  from  which  he  would  have  been  worthless, 
because  Insubordinate  and  dangerous.  By  the 
necessities  of  the  situation,  masters  were  schooled 
to  exercise  a  certain  amount  of  forbearance,  even 
although  they  undoubtedly  had  opportunities  for 
the  exhibition  of  what  we  should  deem  senseless 
cruelty.  More  effectually  than  violence,  modera- 
tion kept  relations  sweet.  In  practice,  restraint 
produced  a  good  tendency,  even  if  the  moral  aim 
Implied  were  not  according  to  modern  theory. 
The  very  contrast  between  bond  and  free,  like  that 
between  barbarian  and  Greek,  generated  an  esprit 
de  corps  among  the  privileged.     For,  if  the  fact 


io8         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

of  slavery  offered  depravity  occasion  to  display 
native  wickedness,  it  also  left  the  better  masters 
free  to  follow  the  arts,  or  to  cultivate  the  sciences 
of  war  and  government.  On  the  whole,  cruelty 
was  probably  an  exception  —  certainly  an  excep- 
tion as  the  men  of  the  day  understood  it;  and  vir- 
tue, developed  in  pursuit  of  '  aristocratic  '  occu- 
pations, innoculated  the  old  stock.  More  than 
likely,  too,  some  benefit  accrued  to  the  slaves  them- 
selves. They  learned  to  feel  that  their  masters 
were  necessary  to  them;  frequent  are  the  records  of 
their  devotion.  On  the  principle  that  "  he  who 
cannot  look  up  to  a  superior  can  never  come  to  re- 
spect himself,'^  they  were  affected  for  the  better  by 
the  standard  Illustrated  In  the  lives  of  their  own- 
ers. Caprice  and  brute  force  were  curbed  by  the 
humanising  influence  exercised  by  a  social  system 
from  which  master  and  slave  were  equally  insep- 
arable. 

But  the  flowering  time  of  such  arrangements 
could  not  last  for  ever.  The  eclipse  of  moral 
right,  and  the  Insistence  upon  duty  Imperatively 
Imposed  by  current  social  norms,  were  factors 
fated  to  bring  forth  consequences  spiritually  dis- 
astrous throughout  and,  in  the  end,  destined  to 
practical  or  material  ruin.  Every  form  of  human 
association  has  the  defects  of  Its  qualities.  The 
resources  of  life  depend  ultimately  upon  the  rela- 
tive perfection  of  the  community.     The  best  so- 


PLUTARCH  109 

clety  is  the  one  wherein  identical,  or  approximately 
Identical,  Interests  spur  each  to  strive  for  the  uplift 
of  all.  So  the  master  could  not  but  be  degraded 
eventually  by  contact  with  the  slave.  For,  the 
few  gained  something  at  the  expense  of  the  many, 
and,  in  the  issue,  as  always  happens,  the  privileged 
had  to  pay  dearly  for  their  uncommon  advantages. 
At  first,  slavery  helped  the  masters  morally  by 
leading  them  to  exhibit  their  superiority  In  deed. 
When  this  had  come  to  be  matter  of  mere  tradi- 
tion, stagnation  ensued,  and  worse,  seeing  that, 
after  all,  the  honour  of  elevation  above  a  being 
who  has  no  rights  is  comparatively  barren,  and 
proves  Its  sterility  by  acting  as  a  gradual  gangre- 
nous growth  upon  Ideals.  The  favoured,  being  set 
cheek  by  jowl  with  the  unfavoured,  finally  come 
to  be  unfavoured  themselves.  The  fear  of  the 
Lord  is  only  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  And,  as  a 
God  who  is  feared,  and  no  more,  tends  to  become 
a  fetich, —  something  less  than  the  worshipper, — 
so  the  master  who  can  always  and  readily  work 
his  sweet  will  tends  to  become  a  slave  to  otiose  im- 
pulses which,  opportunity  aiding  nature,  gain  over- 
whelming Influence.  Long  ere  Plutarch  lived,  this 
stage  had  been  reached. 

Furthermore,  one  must  remember  that  the 
Circenses  not  only  constituted  the  *'  chief  blot " 
upon  Roman  civilisation,  but  were  also  a  prime 
consequence  of  that  contempt  for  the  dignity  of 


no         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

man  whence,  such  Is  the  paradox,  the  supreme 
qualities  of  '  pagan  '  culture  grew.  The  constant 
distributions  of  wheat,  too,  and  the  avidity  with 
which  they  were  accepted  or  even  sought,  are  wit- 
ness to  the  servility  of  both  donors  and  recipients. 
The  sensuality  of  men  and  the  license  of  women 
are  referable  also  to  the  opportunities  which  the 
low  conception  of  manhood  afforded;  they  were 
aggravated  by  the  pliability  of  slaves  whose  prime 
hope  lay  in  a  manumission  to  be  compassed  most 
speedily  by  taking  special  service  with  the  lust, 
gluttony  or  voluptuousness  of  their  superiors. 
While  the  temptations  inseparable  from  their  posi- 
tion were  Intensified  by  the  corruption  of  the  high- 
est, some  accompaniments  of  imperial  rule  aggra- 
vated the  mischief  of  slave  depravity  farther. 
The  artificial  security  desiderated  by  the  baser 
Caesars  afforded  a  new  profession.  The  crime  of 
lese-majeste,  literally  created  all  to  frequently  by 
the  custom  of  delation,  opened  a  prosperous  career 
to  the  Informer.  And  when,  on  a  word  from  the 
worst,  the  best  might  be  done  to  death,  the  way  to 
the  inrush  of  all  evil  passions  was  plain  —  to  every 
species  of  treachery,  to  meanest  revenge  for  sup- 
posititious injury,  or  for  the  more  real  Insult  of 
proven  superiority  which  so  moves  the  malicious 
and  the  petty.  Inexpressibly  foul  In  itself,  this 
practice  further  restricted  the  scope  for  legitimate 
expression  of  Individuality,  a  field  already  far  too 


PLUTARCH  III 

circumscribed  for  safety  or  public  weal.  Success 
in  life  was  to  be  obtained  by  mere  pandering  to  all 
that  was  vilest.  The  mimes,  the  painters,  the 
story-tellers,  nay,  the  very  priests  of  religion,  were 
infected.  Luxury  had  attained  almost  incredible 
proportions,  and  its  enervating  effects  were  never 
more  potent.  In  the  ranks  thus  tainted,  even  the 
superlative  excellence  of  a  Thrasea,  itself  an  out- 
growth of  the  peculiar  circumstances,  could  do  no 
more  than  rise  to  an  acceptance  of  the  inevitable. 
"  We  pour  out  a  libation  to  Jupiter  the  Deliverer. 
Behold,  young  man,  and  may  the  gods  avert  the 
omen,  but  you  have  been  born  into  times  when  it 
is  well  to  fortify  the  spirit  with  examples  of  cour- 
age. 

Nevertheless,  we  must  lay  it  to  heart  that  this 
frightful  corruption  was  no  more  than  ari  excep- 
tional instance  of  the  prevalent  inertia  of  moral 
idealism,  a  defect  necessarily  consequent  upon  the 
disregard  of  personality  involved  in  the  inner 
principle  of  the  city-state.  Opportunity,  which 
might  well  have  made  the  majority  competitors  for 
distinction  in  evil,  presented  itself  mainly,  if  not  ex- 
clusively, to  the  few.  Even  in  Rome  herself,  and 
in  Italy,  by  all  accounts  the  most  miserable  of  the 
provinces,  one  stratum  was  the  chief  subject  of  this 
death  to  virtue.  It  may  well  be  doubted  whether 
the  dire  example  spread  widely  beyond  Rome,  ex- 
cept to  some  cities,  the  confessed  imitators  of  her 


112         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

gross  foibles  —  to  Pompeii,  Baiae,  Sybaris,  Alex- 
andria, Corinth.  Appraising  the  age  without  ref- 
erence to  modern  standards,  the  worst  that  can  be 
said  of  society,  as  a  whole.  Is,  that  moral  aspiration 
was  dull,  and  that,  as  at  no  other  time,  occasion 
abounded  to  sin  openly  and  without  reproof. 
Even  when  this  is  conceded,  the  question  always  re- 
mains. What  was  the  proportion  of  the  one  hun- 
dred million  inhabitants  of  the  Empire  to  whom 
such  occasion  came  ?  It  is  an  obvious  reply  that  the 
vices  whereby  Nero  and  his  court  Idealised  them- 
selves into  dirt  would  have  been  impossible  had 
they  been  universal.  The  very  satire,  hurled  at 
them  and  their  kind,  implies  the  existence  of  an- 
other standard,  not  simply  among  the  masses,  but 
even  with  those  who  moved  in  the  ranks  that  most 
furnished  forth  rioters  In  bestiality.  In  short, 
whatever  may  have  been  the  habit  of  Vitellius,  to 
take  a  case  in  point,  we  may  rest  assured  that 
flamingoes'  tongues  did  not  form  the  national  dish 
of  the  imperial  Romans. 

On  a  broad  survey,  then.  It  Is  Impossible  to  es- 
cape the  conclusion  that  Plutarch's  age  presents  a 
strange  conjunction  of  characteristics.  Outwardly, 
it  was  prosperous  and  avowedly  happy  beyond  the 
average,  possibly  beyond  any  period  of  recorded 
history  save  our  own.  The  supremacy-  of  Rome 
was  Instilling  confidence  Into  many  minds.  Yet,  in 
narrow  circles,  vice  held  triumphant  sway,   and 


PLUTARCH  113 

servility  corrupted  with  awful  success.  Accord- 
ingly, extreme  denunciation  and  extreme  praise  are 
equally  beside  the  mark.  Society  had  its  quali- 
ties, most  of  them  due  to  the  socialising  principle 
of  the  city-state ;  and  it  displayed  its  defects,  most 
of  them  bred  by  the  truncated  conception  of  man 
as  a  moral  being  which,  notwithstanding,  was  the 
presupposition  of  the  mighty  heritage  of  classical 
paganism.  So  far  as  the  conduct  of  life  went, 
then  as  always  there  was  a  chasm  between  the  great 
and  the  small  of  the  earth.  The  practice  of  spe- 
cific vices,  which  testified  to  the  perversion  of  mem- 
bers of  the  one  order,  did  not  exist  to  bear  similar 
witness  for  the  other.  If,  therefore,  the  age  is  to 
be  understood,  an  attempt  must  be  made  to  discover 
the  true  sources  of  putrescence.  The  most  serious 
defect  did  not  consist  in  the  showy  sin  whereon 
Juvenal  dilated;  for  we  can  all  fervently  echo  the 
wish  that  Plutarch's  essay  about  Brotherly  Love, 
ay,  and  much  else  of  his,  might  be  "  bound  up  with 
the  sixth  satire  of  Juvenal,  as  painting  the  two 
aspects  discernible  in  the  same  era,  according  to 
the  eyes  that  saw  it."  No,  the  virulent  corruption 
of  any  epoch  is  that  which  permeates  it  through 
and  through.  The  happiness  of  Plutarch's  time, 
chargeable  not  a  little  to  absence  of  spiritual  curi- 
osity, or,  at  all  events,  to  the  blunting  of  moral 
idealism,  is  far  more  significant  than  the  tales  of 
imperial   licentiousness.     For,    the    adulteries   of 


114         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Roman  ladies,  the  blasphemies,  gluttonies,  and  un- 
natural excesses  of  the  court  and  its  entourage  are 
not  to  be  mistaken  for  causes.  They  were  them- 
selves effects.  The  good  and  bad  of  the  time,  as 
it  has  been  too  commonly  understood,  are  both  ap- 
pearances. The  reality,  the  ultimate  source  of 
much  seeming  ill,  as  of  much  seeming  good  — 
superstition,  for  example  —  is  to  be  sought  deeper. 
While  we  may  not  have  the  key  to  this  mystery 
as  yet,  still  we  can  learn  more  about  the  period 
from  Plutarch  than  from  anyone  else.  And  he 
warrants  the  assertion  that  the  spirit  of  the  time 
is  not  set  forth  in  the  freakish  beliefs  and  weird 
cults  of  the  masses,  or  in  the  swinishness  of 
the  men  about  town.  The  contentment  of  many 
and  the  excess  of  some  are  the  consequences  of 
qualities  wherein  the  people  and  the  exquisites 
partook  alike.  These  hidden  tendencies  are  the 
keepers  of  the  secret  of  the  era.  Depressing  in- 
fluences in  themselves,  they  are  the  seed  of  those 
phenomena  that  have  rightly  earned  for  the  period 
its  terrible  appellation,  the  Age  of  Death.  '  Plu- 
tarch was  not  the  sole  recorder  of  the  actual  truth, 
but  he  caught  it  more  justly  than  his  fellows. 
Spiritual  sickness  supplied  his  theme;  regeneration 
formed  his  ideal,  but  regeneration  by  return  to  a 
past  dispensation.  We  have  misprised  him  till 
now,  because  one  whose  inspiration  seems  anti- 
quarian bears  no  vital  message.     But  we  have  for- 


PLUTARCH  115 

gotten  that  he  had  his  own  aspirations,  that  he  was 
a  prophet  after  his  kind  —  the  sole  kind  which  a 
reaction,  in  this  case,  the  Pagan  Reaction  — 
can  ever  inspire.  Great  Pan  is  dead;  but,  may- 
hap some  other  god  still  ranges  the  firmament, 
seeking  sincere  worship.  The  dread  fact  of  this 
death  and  the  need  somewhere  and  somehow  for 
spiritual  resurrection,  together  cohstitute  the  spir- 
itual quintessence  of  the  age.  Yet  every  eye  seems 
to  have  been  blind,  although  Plutarch  caught  a 
glimmer  here  and  there.  The  significance  of  his 
insight  may  be  brought  home  to  us,  children  of  a 
late  but  like  transition,  by  those  lines,  from  the  pen 
of  one  of  our  best  exemplars.  Mr.  Kipling  has 
addressed  them  appositely — "To  whom  it  may 


The  smoke  upon  your  altar  dies, 

The  flowers  decay, 

The  Goddess  of  your  sacrifice 

Has  flown  away. 

What  profit  then  to  sing  or  slay 

The  sacrifice  from  day  to  day? 

"  We  know  the  shrine  is  void,"  they  said, 

"  The  Goddess  flown  — 

Yet  wreaths  are  on  the  altar  laid  — 

The  Altar-Stone 

Is  black  with  fumes  of  sacrifice, 

Albeit  She  has  fled  our  eyes, 


ii6         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

For  It  may  be,  if  still  we  sing 

And  tend  the  Shrine, 

Some  Deity  on  wandering  wing 

May  there  incline. 

And,  finding  all  in  order  meet, 

Stay  while  we  worship  at  Her  feet." 


THE  MOVEMENT  TOWARDS  '  PHYSIO- 
LOGICAL '  PSYCHOLOGY 

We  believe  that  the  more  closely 
the  physiological  conceptions  approach 
agreement  with  the  actual  facts  of 
structure  and  function,  the  more  facile 
the  progress  of  psychology. 

LIKE  many  words  of  broad  sweep  and  in- 
tensive significance,  the  term  '  soul '  has 
descended  to  us  laden  with  centuries  of 
righteousness  —  and  iniquity.  Even  yet 
some  folk  roll  it  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  the 
tongue;  while  others,  seeing  it  is  neither  hot  nor 
cold,  would  spue  it  from  their  mouths  forthwith. 
Consequently,  whereas  the  very  title  '  psychol- 
ogy '  means  a  study  of  the  soul,  to-day  one  sel- 
dom hears  the  too  suggestive  name  inside  a 
psychological  laboratory,  for  there  we  have  no  in- 
clination to  the  double  entendre.  And  the  im- 
pression has  gone  abroad  that  this  *  strange  '  atti- 
tude dates  from  very  recent  times.  Accordingly, 
it  is  necessary  to  point  out,  first,  that  traces  of  a 
psychology  rooted  in  physiology,  that  is,  of  psychol- 
ogy as  a  natural  science,  did  not  begin  yesterday, 

117 


ii8         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Indeed,  they  may  be  said  to  antedate  physiology 
itself.  While  it  may  be  needless  to  consider 
Pythagoras'  alleged  discovery,  that  the  tones  in  an 
octave  are  results  of  relations  between  physiolog- 
ical movements  capable  of  numerical  measurement, 
or  Aristotle's  extraordinary  prevision,  of  the  study 
of  '  soul '  as  a  question  for  the  physiologist,  we 
cannot  omit  reference  to  post-Renascence  thought. 
As  happens  so  often,  especially  when  a  recent 
movement  attains  vogue,  the  '*  heroes  before  Aga- 
memnon "  are  apt  to  be  robbed  of  credit.  Flushed 
by  the  success  of  experimental  methods,  some  have 
tended  to  forget  that  the  forerunners  did  but  what 
they  could.  To  accuse  them  of  interrogating 
themselves  "  without  information,  experience,  ap- 
paratus, or  means  of  procedure,"  to  blame  them 
for  their  looseness  and  mysticism,  or  for  subserv- 
ience to  preconceived  beliefs,  to  popular  fancies 
and  predilections,  is  to  evince  lack  of  historical 
sense.  They  groped  in  the  dim,  grey  dawn  of 
science,  without  our  advantages,  but  they  set  the 
problems  that  we  attack  hopefully  in  the  bright 
glow  of  early  morning.  If,  then,  we  remember 
this,  we  shall  be  less  surprised  to  learn  that,  leaving 
many  lesser  lights  aside,  at  least  two  dozen  men, 
between  Locke  (1690)  and  Lewes  (i860),  play 
their  preparatory  parts  to  Fechner,  Wundt  and 
the  devoted  contemporary  group  of  psychological 
co-workers.     To  make  this  clearer,  let  me  adduce 


PSYCHOLOGY  119 

some  names,  adding  the  approximate  dates  of  most 
significant  activity.  Locke,  1690;  Berkeley,  1709; 
Lavatar,  1772;  Kant,  1781;  Herder,  1785;  Gal- 
vani,  1786;  Cabanis,  1801;  Volta,  1801;  Gall, 
1 805  ;  Spurzheim,  1 8 1 3  ;  Young,  1 807 ;  Sir  Charles 
Bell,  18 1 1, -George  Combe,  1820;  Herbart,  1825; 
Fourier,  1825;  Js.  Miiller,  1835;  Beneke,  1835; 
E.  H.  Weber,  1846;  du  Bois  Reymond,  1848; 
Lotze,  1852;  Helmholtz,  1856;  Bain,  1857; 
Lewes,  i860;  Fechner,  i860,  and  Wundt  (1874), 
the  inheritor  of  all  this  renown,  who,  in  a  manner 
parallels  for  psychology  Darwin's  position  in  nat- 
ural history. 

Our  next  task  is  to  unravel  the  tangled  skein  of 
investigation  and  tentative  hypotheses,  of  discov- 
ery and  of  open  problems,  for  which  these  names 
stand.  This  is  no  easy  thing,  because  some  of  the 
threads  cannot  be  disentangled.  But  we  may 
contrive  to  render  the  situation  less  puzzling,  and 
so  see  how  we  came  to  stand  where  we  have  been 
for  the  past  thirty  years. 

Premising  that  they  cross,  recross,  and  even  co- 
incide occasionally,  three  lines  of  development  may 
be  traced.  These  are:  First,  the  philosophical,  in 
the  accepted  sense  of  this  term,  which  originates,  of 
course,  in  a  view  of  human  experience  as  a  whole, 
or,  restricting  the  compass  somewhat,  emphasises 
the  gross  organisation  of  consciousness;  second, 
the  physical,  which  lays  stress  on  the  relation  of 


120         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

certain  events  in  consciousness  to  objects  presented 
under  the  primary  conditions  of  space  and  time; 
third,  the  physiological,  which  founds  on  the  inter- 
connection between  conscious  processes  and  the 
structures  of  the  body,  particularly  the  cerebro- 
spinal system.  As  every  one  knows,  the  first  ap- 
peared earliest,  while  the  second  and  third,  being 
dependent  upon  the  advance  of  positive  science, 
had  to  await  what  we  may  call  the  Newtonian  and 
genetic  epochs,  the  one  initiated  by  Copernicus,  the 
other  by  Herder  and  Schelling.  Till  the  age  of 
Kant,  philosophy  and  physics  are  dominated  by 
British  thought,  all  things  considered;  from  Kant 
till  the  first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century 
French  thought  acquires  increased  importance; 
thereafter,  the  primacy  passes  to  Germany,  where 
it  still  remains,  the  influence  of  Darwinian  ideas 
aside  (and  so  I  shall  omit  reference  to  the  later 
British  school).  For,  physiology  and  'physio- 
logical '  psychology,  along  with  the  problems  issu- 
ing from  the  new  outlook,  are  in  the  main  German 
products.  The  synthesis  of  information  constitut- 
ing the  modern  science  of  consciousness  was  ''  made 
in  Germany." 


The  point  of  departure,  then,  lies  in  the  philo- 
sophical line.  Little  as  he  could  foresee  the  future 
influence  of  his  theory,  Locke  raised,  in  a  manner, 


PSYCHOLOGY  121 

the  entire  question  of  the  relation  between  con- 
sciousness and  the  physiological  organism  by  his 
famous  distinction  between  the  primary  and  sec- 
ondary qualities  of  body.  iQualities  like  colour, 
odour,  hardness  and  sound,  he  called  secondary, 
because  they  cannot  become  effective  components  of 
consciousness  unless  the  appropriate  organs  coop- 
erate. Neither  colour  nor  sound  resides  in  nature, 
but  motions  of  such  and  such  amplitude.  For  us, 
therefore,  colour  and  sound  happen  to  be  interpre- 
tations by  eye  and  ear  of  something  incommensur- 
able with  the  perceptions  in  consciousnss.  On  the 
contrary,  qualities  such  as  resistance  and  extension 
belong  to  objects  in  their  own  right,  and  persist  in- 
dependent of  any  cooperation  by  our  sense-organs. 
Locke  did  not  grasp  the  philosophical  problems  in- 
volved here,  much  less  the  extreme  complexity  of 
the  physiological  processes  he  assumed.  How- 
ever, he  does  advert  to  one  of  the  difficulties  em- 
bedded in  his  view  —  the  '  mystery,'  as  it  remains 
even  yet,  of  space  perception : 

"  I  shall  here  insert  a  problem  of  that  very  in- 
genious and  studious  promoter  of  real  knowledge, 
the  learned  and  worthy  Mr.  Molineux,  which  he 
was  pleased  to  send  me  in  a  letter  some  months 
since;  and  it  is  this:  — '  Suppose  a  man  born  blind, 
and  now  adult,  and  taught  by  his  touch  to  distin- 
guish between  a  cube  and  a  sphere  of  the  same 
metal,  and  nighly  of  the  same  bigness,  so  as  to  tell. 


122         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

when  he  felt  one  and  the  other,  which  is  the  cube, 
which  the  sphere.  Suppose  then  the  cube  and  the 
sphere  placed  on  a  table,  and  the  blind  man  be 
made  to  see:  quare,  whether  by  his  sight ,  before 
he  touched  them,  he  could  now  distinguish  and  tell 
which  is  the  globe,  which  the  cube  ?  *  To  which 
the  acute  and  judicious  proposer  answers,  '  Not. 
For,  though  he  has  obtained  the  experience  of  how 
a  globe,  how  a  cube  affects  his  touch,  yet  he  has  not 
yet  obtained  the  experience  that  what  affects  hi^ 
touch  so  or  so,  must  affect  his  sight  so  or  so ;  or  that 
a  protuberant  angle  in  the  cube,  that  pressed  his 
hand  unequally,  shall  appear  to  his  eye  as  it  does  in 
the  cube.' —  I  agree  with  this  thinking  gentleman, 
whom  I  am  proud  to  call  my  friend,  in  his  answer 
to  this  problem;  and  am  of  opinion  that  the  blind 
man,  at  first  sight,  would  not  be  able  with  certainty 
to  say  which  was  the  globe,  which  the  cube,  whilst 
he  only  saw  them;  though  he  could  unerringly 
name  them  by  his  touch,  and  certainly  distinguish 
them  by  the  difference  of  their  figures  felt.  This 
I  have  set  down,  and  leave  with  my  reader,  as  an 
occasion  for  him  to  consider  how  much  he  may  be 
beholden  to  experience,  improvement  and  acquired 
notions,  where  he  thinks  he  had  not  the  least  use 
of,  or  help  from  them." 

As  the  last  sentence  indicates,  this  reference  re- 
mains incidental  rather  than  determining  for 
Locke. 


PSYCHOLOGY  123 

It  was  left  for  his  successor  and  critic  Berkeley 
to  give  special  form  to  the  problem  for  its  own 
sake,  In  his  Essay  towards  a  New  Theory  of 
Vision  (1709).  With  remarkable  prescience,  he 
writes : 

"  Rightly  to  conceive  the  business  In  hand,  we 
must  carefully  distinguish  between  the  ideas  of 
sight  and  touch,  between  the  visible  and  tangible 
eye ;  for  certainly  on  the  tangible  eye  nothing  either 
Is  or  seems  to  be  painted.  Again,  the  visible  eye, 
as  well  as  all  other  visible  objects,  hath  been  shown 
to  exist  only  In  the  mind;  which,  perceiving  Its  own 
Ideas,  and  comparing  them  together,  does  call  some 
pictures  in  respect  to  others.  What  hath  been 
said,  being  rightly  comprehended  and  laid  to- 
gether, does,  I  think,  afford  a  full  and  genuine  ex- 
planation of  the  erect  appearance  of  objects  — 
which  phenomenon,  I  must  confess,  I  do  not  see 
how  It  can  be  explained  by  any  theories  of  vision 
hitherto  made  public.  In  treating  of  these  things, 
the  use  of  language  is  apt  to  occasion  some  obscur- 
ity and  confusion,  and  create  In  us  wrong  ideas. 
For,  language,  being  accommodated  to  the  com- 
mon notions  and  prejudices  of  men.  It  is  scarce  pos- 
sible to  deliver  the  naked  and  precise  truth,  with- 
out great  circumlocution.  Impropriety,  and  (to  an 
unwary  reader)  seeming  contradictions." 

That  Is  to  say,  Berkeley  Insists  upon  the  neces- 
sity for  another  and  more  concrete  analysis  than 


124         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

that  afforded  by  the  resources  of  descriptive  lan- 
guage. 

Later,  In  The  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge^ 
Part  I.,  he  seems  to  indicate  that  this  profounder 
analysis  must  take  a  physiological  direction: 

"  The  philosophic  consideration  of  motion  doth 
not  imply  the  being  of  an  absolute  Space,  distinct 
from  that  which  is  perceived  by  sense,  and  related 
to  bodies.  .  .  .  When  I  excite  a  motion  in  some 
part  of  my  body,  if  it  be  free  or  without  resistance, 
I  say  there  is  Space.  But  if  I  find  a  resistance, 
then  I  say  there  is  Body:  and  in  proportion  as  the 
resistance  to  motion  is  lesser  or  greater,  I  say  the 
space  is  more  or  less  pure,  .  .  .  When,  therefore, 
supposing  all  the  world  to  be  annihilated  besides 
my  own  body,  I  say  there  still  remains  pure  Space; 
thereby  nothing  else  is  meant  but  only  that  I  con- 
ceive it  possible  for  the  limbs  of  my  body  to  be 
moved  on  all  sides  without  the  least  resistance :  but 
if  that  too  were  annihilated  then  there  could  be  no 
motion,  and  consequently  no  Space." 

Knowing  little  of  physiology,  Berkeley  leaves 
the  problem,  stated  so  far,  indeed,  but  only  stated. 
It  is  this :  How  can  we  derive  space,  a  general  con- 
dition of  external  objects,  from  states  of  the  body 
which.  In  their  very  nature,  differ  utterly  from  this, 
their  product?  Twenty-two  years  later,  he  returns 
to  the  question,  and  appears  to  raise  it  in  fresh 


PSYCHOLOGY  125 

form.  In  the  Fourth  Dialogue  of  Alciphron,  the 
Minute  Philosopher,  he  says : 

(Euphranor  speaks:)  "We  perceive  distance, 
not  Immediately,  but  by  mediation  of  a  sign,  which 
hath  no  likeness  to  It,  or  necessary  connection  with 
it,  but  only  suggests  It  from  repeated  experience,  as 
words  do  things."  (Alciphron  replies:)  "Hold, 
Euphranor :  now  I  think  of  it,  the  writers  in  optics 
tell  us  of  an  angle  made  by  the  two  optic  axes, 
where  they  meet  in  the  visible  point  or  object; 
which  angle,  the  obtuser  it  Is  the  nearer  it  shows 
the  object  to  be,  and  by  how  much  the  acuter,  by  so 
much  the  farther  off;  and  this  from  a  necessary 
demonstrable  connection." 

It  is  needless  to  add  that  Berkeley,  although  he 
makes  physiological  reference  and  research  inevi- 
table, lived  long  before  such  a  study  of  "  local 
signs  "  as  that  undertaken  by  Lotze  was  practic- 
able. 

Thus,  the  *  mystery '  is  simply  held  over,  to 
be  attacked  by  Kant,  in  whose  person  eighteenth 
century  thought  was  to  give  place  to  a  very  con- 
trasted movement.  For  him,  space  and  time,  the 
general  forms  of  human  perception  of  all  events 
in  consciousness,  are  factors  not  derived  from  ma- 
terials supplied  by  sensation.  They  belong  to  the 
unifying  power  of  perception  in  its  relation  to  ob- 
jects which,  again,  demands  the  presence  of  ele- 


126         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

ments  presented  by  sensation.  Accordingly,  he  is 
quite  clear  that,  for  example,  geometrical  truth 
must  be  classed  as  a  priori;  that  is,  it  cannot  be 
distilled,  as  it  were,  from  those  sense  materials  ac- 
quired in  the  course  of  experience.  Thus  Kant 
forces  us  to  class  him  as  a  *  nativist.'  So,  it  does 
not  surprise  us  to  observe  that  he  fails  to  envisage 
difficulties  which  were  to  become  capital  for 
'  physiological '  psychology  at  a  later  time.  For 
instance:  How,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  do  we 
construct  our  completed  perception  of  space? 
Granted  that  it  be  the  product  of  psychical  proc- 
esses. What  are  they?  Granted  that  it  become 
effective  only  in  the  presence  of  objects,  which 
presuppose  sensuous  matter.  What  does  this  phys- 
iological reference  gift  to  our  perception?  Or, 
once  more,  By  what  subtle  alchemy  can  we  explain 
the  obvious  fact  that  we  distribute  our  sensations 
in  space,  as  it  were?  How,  that  is,  can  we  ac- 
count for  localisation?  Here  we  quit  the  philo- 
sophical line  for  a  while,  premising  that  its  unan- 
swered questions  will  reappear  in  an  altered  per- 
spective. 

II. 

In  the  realm  of  physics,  prior  to  the  systematic 
inquiries  of  the  nineteenth  century,  several  more 
or  less  sporadic  references  to  the  connection  be- 
tween physical  and  psychical  phenomena   occur. 


PSYCHOLOGY  127 

Such,  for  example,  were  the  discussions,  by  Euler 
and  Daniel  Bernoulli,  of  "  the  law  governing  the 
motions  of  strings";  Bernoulli's  theory  of  the 
mensura  sortis,  with  Laplace's  addition  of  the 
fortune  physique  and  the  fortune  morale.  These 
forecast  the  laws  of  psycho-physical  relationship 
formulated  by  E.  H.  Weber  and  Fechner.  Sim- 
ilarly, the  discoveries  of  Galvani  and  Volta  led  to 
speculations  on  a  supposed  parallelism  between 
the  known  phenomena  of  electricity  and  the  so- 
called  *  discharges '  of  innervation  which,  in  a 
way,  plumbed  the  depths  of  quasi-charlatanism  in 
the  developments  from  Mesmer,  and  touched  the 
heights  of  scientific  advance  in  du  Bois  Reymond's 
classical  work  Untersuchungen  ilher  thierische 
Electricitdt  (1848),  where  the  mystical  and  the 
physical  views  passed  over  to  physiology  for  sys- 
tematic clarification. 

Again,  Fourier's  Law,  that  "  any  given  reg- 
ular periodic  form  of  vibration  can  always  be  pro- 
duced by  the  addition  of  simple  vibrations,  having 
vibrational  numbers  which  are  once,  twice,  thrice, 
four  times,  etc.,  as  great  as  the  vibrational  num- 
ber of  the  given  motion  " ;  Ohm's  analysis  of  the 
"  periodic  motions  perceived  by  the  human  ear," 
and  Wheatstone's  stereoscope  united  to  demon- 
strate that  the  psychical  and  the  physical  stand  in 
close  connection. 

Finally,  Young's  colour-theory,  with  Its  threq 


128         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

primary  colours  —  red,  green  and  violet  —  paved 
the  way  for  a  passage  from  physical  to  phys- 
iological considerations;  for  it  led  to  the  hy- 
pothesis of  "  specific  energies "  in  the  nerve- 
fibres. 

Ere  we  pass  to  the  epoch-making  transformations 
of  last  century,  two  movements,  discredited  in 
many  ways  it  is  true,  yet  of  importance  as  pre- 
paratory, demand  recognition.  It  may  astonish 
us  to  find  that  they  are  phrenology  and  physi- 
ognomy. Gall  and  Spurzheim,  both  physicians, 
substituted  for  the  descriptive  and  introspective 
faculty-psychology  an  anatomical  scheme  analog- 
ical essentially  in  result.  They  concluded  that  the 
faculties  can  be  localised  in  definite  portions  of 
the  brain,  and  that  these,  in  turn,  can  be  traced 
by  reference  to  the  surface  formation  of  the  skull. 
Phrenology  created  widespread  interest  early  in 
the  ninetenth  century  —  witness  George  Combe 
(1828)  in  Edinburgh,  who,  it  may  be  interesting 
to  relate,  received  a  call  to  the  chair  of  philosophy 
in  the  University  of  Michigan,  or  Caldwell  and 
Godman  in  this  country.  Through  a  long  series 
of  fluctuating  fortunes  their  suggestions  became 
effective  finally  as  elements  in  a  scientific  *  physi- 
ological'  psychology  when  Broca  (1861)  located 
the  brain-centre  of  speech;  and,  ever  since,  thanks 
to  the  labours  of  Hughlings  Jackson,  Ferrier, 
Golz,  Hitzig  and  many  others,  this  has  provided 


I 


PSYCHOLOGY  129 

an  Important  sphere  of  study  to  '  physiological ' 
psychology. 

In  similar  fashion,  the  observations,  opinions 
and  speculations  of  Lavatar,  in  his  Physiognom- 
ische  Fragmente  (1772),  produced  a  furore; 
elicited  Sir  Charles  Bell's  famous  Essay  on  the 
Anatomy  of  Expression  (1806),  with  its  theory 
of  the  relation  between  Intellectual  power  and  the 
facial  angle;  and,  at  last,  attained  complete  scien- 
tific consecration  In  Darwin's  masterly  book.  Ex- 
pressions of  the  Emotions  in  Man  and  Animals 
(1872).  Thus  positive  error  and  misleading 
half-truth  sometimes  serve  to  raise  problems 
which,  otherwise,  might  have  failed  to  gain  hear- 
ing. One  may  conclude  fairly,  then,  that  ques- 
tions about  the  relation  of  body  to  mind  were  In 
the  air  throughout  the  entire  course  of  the  eight- 
eenth century  and,  at  Its  close,  had  begun  to  be- 
come urgent. 

III. 

At  this  juncture  philosophical  activity  assumed 
unprecedented  proportions  and  left  a  solid  de- 
posit destined  to  a  constructive  Influence  which,  I 
fear,  too  few  scientific  men  recognise  to-day.  The 
years  1780-1840  witnessed  an  efliorescence  of 
speculative  thought  unparalleled  In  western  his- 
tory save  once  —  in  that  wonderful  century  (422- 
322  B.  C.)  when  Socrates,  Plato  and  Aristotle  se- 


I30         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

cured  for  the  Greeks  a  far  more  permanent  and 
formative  hold  over  mankind  than  was  ever 
achieved  by  Aristotle's  amazing  pupil,  Alexander 
the  Great.  As  at  Athens,  so  In  the  modern 
period,  transitive  Intellectual  personages  are  le- 
gion. Here  It  must  suffice  to  mention  Herder, 
FIchte,  Schelling,  Hegel,  Herbart  and  Beneke. 
FIchte's  previsions  of  a  social  science,  Schelllng's 
widespread  sway  over  nascent  physiology  and 
medicine,  and  Hegel's  splendid  mission,  as  founder 
of  contemporary  critlco-hlstorlcal  and  comparative 
studies  that  have  altered  the  face  of  human  na- 
ture, must  be  suppressed  now.  But,  for  psychol- 
ogy. Herder,  Herbart  and  Beneke  present  matter 
of  real  import. 

Herder  possessed  that  rarest  of  endowments,  a 
seminal  mind.  His  thought  scattered  seeds 
everywhere,  which  have  come  to  fruitage  since  In 
philology,  comparative  religion,  anthropology  and 
psychology,  to  name  no  others.  Genetic  con- 
ceptions inspired  him,  and  his  command  of  enor- 
mous reading  enabled  him  to  illustrate  them  con- 
cretely. If  sporadically.  Under  the  influence  of 
Albrecht  von  Haller,  the  eminent  Gottingen 
naturalist,  who  founded  experimental  and  brain 
physiology,  he  foresaw  the  necessity  of  physio- 
logical research  for  psychology.  "  According  to 
my  thinking,"  he  wrote,  as  early  as  1778,  "  there 
is  no  psychology  possible  which  Is  not  at  every 


PSYCHOLOGY  131 

step  definite  physiology.  Haller's  physiological 
work  once  raised  to  psychology,  and,  like  Pygma- 
lion's statue,  enlivened  with  mind,  we  shall  be 
able  to  say  something  of  thought  and  sensation." 
No  less  remarkable  Is  the  following.  In  its  prophe- 
tic insight;  "Among  millions  of  creatures  what- 
ever could  preserve  itself  abides,  and  still  after 
the  lapse  of  thousands  of  years  remains  in  the 
great  harmonious  order.  Wild  animals  and  tame, 
carnivorous  and  graminivorous  insects,  birds, 
fishes  and  man  are  adapted  to  each  other." 

But,  admitting  Herder's  vision  to  the  full,  his 
main  title  to  a  distinct  place  in  the  historical  line 
of  psychologists  supplies  the  reason  why,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  we  must  dismiss  him  briefly  in  the 
present  context.  The  most  recondite  and,  at  the 
same  time,  most  potent  quality  of  self-conscious- 
ness is  Its  eerie  power  of  objectlfication.  Students 
brood  upon  this  increasingly,  sciences  like  his- 
torical criticism,  sociology  and  aesthetics  offering 
testimony.  Men  bandy  words  about  the  "  social 
mind,"  about  "  mob  psychology,"  about  a  "  na- 
tional or  epochal  ethos/^  and  so  forth.  Customs 
and  institutions,  myth  and  religion  yield  palaeonto- 
loglcal  records,  not  of  individual  men,  but  rather 
of  humanity,  a  kind  of  compost  of  individuals. 
But  the  implications  hinted  here  receive  their  most 
striking  manifestation  In  language.  Herder,  to 
give  him  his  due,  must  be  saluted  as  the  herald  of 


132         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Volkerpsychologie  and  of  Sprachwissenschaft.  So 
he  stands  aside  from  the  line  under  examination. 
For,  even  if  it  be  recalled  that  phonology  can  be 
classed  as  a  physiological  science,  the  matter  ter- 
minates there.  Great  as  have  been  the  contri- 
butions of  W.  von  Humboldt,  Bopp,  Grimm,  Max 
Miiller  and  their  co-workers,  and  much  as  has  been 
accomplished  by  Waitz,  Lazarus,  Steinthal,  Mc- 
Lennan, Spencer,  Lubbock,  Tylor,  Frazer  and 
Westermarck,  all  sit  more  or  less  loose  to  '  physio- 
logical '  psychology,  which  continues  to  be  an  in- 
vestigation of  Individual  far  more  than  of  group 
processes.  Thus,  attractive  and  suggestive  as 
Herder  is,  perforce  v/e  rest  content  now  with  the 
bare  reference  to  what  I  have  had  the  temerity 
to  call  his  seminal  mind. 

When  we  arrive  at  Herbart  and  Beneke  the 
case  presents  a  different  aspect.  For  they  stand 
forth  among  the  last  great  psychologists  who  deal 
with  mind  as  mind,  to  the  exclusion  of  modern 
experimental  methods  applicable  chiefly  to  the 
body.  After  a  manner  their  services  pale  in  the 
glow  of  the  contemporary  atmosphere ;  their  work 
has  been  bemused  by  pedagogists,  misprized  over- 
much by  psychologists,  even  if,  as  Wundt  says, 
he  owes  most  to  Kant  and  Herbart,  and  even  re- 
membering the  researches  of  Herbartlans  like 
Droblsch,  Volkmann,  Exner,  Striimpell,  Cornelius 
and  R.  Zimmermann. 


PSYCHOLOGY  133 

Note,  at  the  outset,  that  Herbart  (1776-1841) 
and  Beneke  (1798-1854)  revolt  strongly  against 
the  dominant  Hegelian  school,  and  that  both  at- 
tempt a  concrete  study  of  consciousness.  On  one 
point  they  differ  radically.  Herbart's  psychology, 
as  the  title  of  his  chief  work  runs, —  Psychology  as 
a  Science,  founded,  for  the  first  time,  upon  Expe- 
rience, Metaphysics  and  Mathematics, —  possesses 
a  triple  basis.  Beneke  excludes  the  second  and 
third,  emphasising  experience  as  the  sole  legit- 
imate foundation.  In  this  respect  he  takes  a 
pioneer  place  among  those  who  raised  the  later 
cry,  "Back  to  Kant!" 

Thanks  to  the  limits  of  this  paper,  Herbart's 
metaphysical  doctrine  must  disappear  with  a 
word.  He  held  that  the  soul,  in  its  own  proper 
nature,  forms  an  original,  changeless  and  simple 
entity.  Psychological  processes  originate  in  its 
resistance  to  intrusion  from  the  outside,  there- 
fore, the  complexities  of  consciousness,  just  be- 
cause they  are  complex,  fall  within  the  reach  of 
analysis.  As  results  of  mechanical  interaction 
they  lie  open  to  mathematical  methods. "  Such 
procedure,  of  course,  leads  straight  to  experience, 
and,  on  the  whole,  it  may  be  affirmed  that,  as  his 
psychology  prospers,  the  direct  influence  of  his 
metaphysic  wanes.  In  this  way  a  long  step  to- 
wards psychology  viewed  as  a  natural  science  be- 


134         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

comes    easy.     Let   us    try   to    see    how    Herbart 
presaged  such  tendencies. 

He  denies  that  consciousness  consists  in  a  bunch 
of  faculties.  Mind  persists  as  a  system  of  con- 
crete relations  between  its  constituent  parts. 
These  parts  interact  mutually,  and  therefore 
stand  in  mechanical  relations  to  one  another.  As 
thus  related,  they  constitute  a  unity  of  "  presenta- 
tion "  which  resists  "  arrest  of  any  of  its  compo- 
nents." Accordingly,  "  presentations  "  may  form 
series;  these  series,  in  turn,  may  arrest  or 
strengthen,  and  shorten  or  intertwine,  mutually. 
While  the  simple  substance  of  soul  (metaphysical) 
remains  unknown  qualitatively,  its  activities,  in  Its 
processes  of  self-maintenance,  afford  the  states  of 
consciousness  which  psychology  studies.  In  this 
respect  the  soul  happens  to  be  identical  with  all 
other  "  reals "  which,  in  sum,  make  Herbart's 
universe.  Therefore,  methods  peculiar  to  the 
positive  sciences  find  application,  and  mathematical 
analysis  becomes  a  chief  instrument  of  discovery. 
Further,  the  opposition  between  "  presentations  " 
transforms  states  of  consciousness  into  forces,  with 
the  result  that  a  statics  and  dynamics  (mechanics) 
of  mind  emerge.  It  is  feasible,  accordingly,  to 
calculate  the  equilibrium  and  movement  of  "  pres- 
entations." So,  conformably  to  science,  Herbart 
frames  hypotheses  and  tries  to  establish  them  by 
mathematical  methods.     He  sets  himself  to  show 


PSYCHOLOGY  135 

accurately  how  the  indeterminate  manifold  of 
sensation,  as  envisaged  by  Kant,  and  the  multi- 
pHcIty  of  ideas  as  set  forth  by  the  faculty-psychol- 
ogy, come  to  an  organic  unity  In  apperclplent  self- 
consciousness.  In  a  word,  the  proper  study  of 
psychology  is  mind  which,  again,  consists  precisely 
in  those  transforming  processes  known  collectively 
as  "  apperception."  A  very  apposite  delimita- 
tion of  the  psychological  field,  one  would  add. 
And  it  is  both  interesting  and  important  to  note 
that.  In  his  theory  of  apperception,  above  all  else, 
Herbart  continues  to  resound  in  contemporary 
psychological  thought.  His  connection  with  the 
modern  movement,  though  by  no  means  clear  on 
the  whole,  appears  In  special  tendencies :  —  first, 
in  his  complete  acceptance  of  the  method  of  re- 
gressive analysis;  second,  in  his  appeal  to  experi- 
ence; third,  in  the  attention  which  he  has  com- 
pelled to  the  possibility  of  mathematical  applica- 
tions in  this  unstable  sphere;  fourth,  in  his  gradual 
drift  away  from  his  own  metaphysical  basis  as  he 
wrought  to  render  psychology  a  natural  science  — 
to  prove  that,  in  mind,  as  everywhere,  natural  law 
reigns  supreme. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  his  opposition  to  any- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  '  physiological '  psychol- 
ogy seems  certain.  For  this  curious  hesitation 
reasons  must  be  sought,  not  in  any  antagonism  pe- 
culiar to  Herbart  himself,  as  some  recent  experi- 


136         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

mental  enthusiasts,  blind  to  history,  have  hastily 
supposed,  but  in  the  general  perspective  of  his 
age.  Like  many  of  his  followers,  he  was  a  par- 
tisan enemy  of  the  speculative  philosophy  that 
ruled  Germany,  and  he  paid  the  inevitable  price. 
His  judgment  on  certain  scientific  developments 
became  warped.  He  noticed  that  Schelling's 
N  aturphilosophie  exercised  profound  influence 
upon  contemporary  biological  science.  Physiology 
behaved  like  an  ally  of  idealism,  therefore  he 
would  exclude  it  rigidly  from  psychology,  as  a  sure 
source  of  trans-experiential  contamination.  On 
this  he  spoke  with  no  uncertain  sound  —  physi- 
ology, as  he  saw  it,  was  a  dangerous  friend  for  a 
mathematico-empirical  psychology.  "  Physiology, 
as  an  empirical  doctrine,  has  attained  a  height 
which  nobody  can  despise.  Moreover  it  pro- 
ceeds in  the  light  of  modern  physics.  Neverthe- 
less, it  has  eagerly  sucked  up,  as  the  sponge  sucks 
up  water,  that  philosophy  of  nature  which  knows 
nothing,  because  it  began  by  construing  the  uni- 
verse a  priori.  Towards  this  error  no  science  has 
proved  so  weak,  so  little  capable  of  resistance,  as 
physiology."  The  very  end  for  which  Herbart 
toiled  so  strenuously  Is  obscured  from  him  by  his 
suspicion  of  physiological  tendencies.  Truly,  the 
Time-spirit  plays  us  humans  queer  tricks ! 

Free   from   these   fears,   Beneke   brought  psy- 


PSYCHOLOGY  137 

chology  another  stage  nearer  science.  He  ex- 
cluded Herbart's  metaphysic,  demanded  concrete 
treatment  of  consciousness  as  the  one  road  to  real 
knowledge,  and  placed  all  the  other  philosophical 
disciplines  In  a  position  of  dependence  upon  psy- 
chology. His  pivotal  doctrine  exhibits  clearly 
the  possibility  of  scientific  procedure  In  psychology. 
It  may  be  put  as  follows.  Experience  presents  two 
sides  —  an  "  outer "  and  an  "  Inner."  The 
former  consists  of  sensational  phenomena,  or  as 
Hume  would  have  said,  "  sensations,  passions  and 
emotions  as  they  make  their  first  appearance  In  the 
soul."  The  latter  includes  everything  that  re- 
lates to  memory.  Imagination,  thought  and  ratio- 
cination. Thus  science,  which  deals  with  the 
"  outer,"  reaches  indirect  knowledge  of  being, 
while  psychology,  thanks  to  its  immediate  contact 
with  Its  object  ("inner"),  arrives  at  knowledge 
of  true  reality.  Consequently,  by  analogy  from 
our  own  selfhood,  we  can  acquire  relatively  suf- 
ficient knowledge  of  other  men,  this  sufficiency 
dwindling,  so  to  speak,  as  we  descend  the  scale 
of  existence.  Accordingly,  positive  science  is  con- 
fined to  observation,  but  psychology  considers 
knowledge  —  an  inference  from  this  same  obser- 
vation. Therefore  the  methods  of  science  apply 
as  much  in  the  one  sphere  as  in  the  other.  In 
short,  consciousness  originates  the  dualism  between 


138         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

soul  and  body,  mind  and  objects.  Corporeal  proc- 
esses become  conscious  in  us,  and  thus  fall  under 
direct  perception:  — 

"  There  is  no  kind  of  corporeal  process  which 
cannot  under  certain  circumstances  become  con- 
scious, and  as  a  conscious  thing  be  perceived  by  us 
directly.  .  .  .  Such  a  revolutionary  change  of  a 
thing  usually  not  a  psychical  apprehension  to  a 
psychical  apprehension,  would  be  unthinkable 
were  it  the  case  that  their  being  was  in  funda- 
mental opposition:  we  are  thus  led  all  the  more 
to  the  conclusion  that  both  kinds  of  powers  in  their 
innermost  nature  stand  very  close  to  one  another, 
and  that  for  the  explanation  of  their  inner  co- 
herence and  interaction  no  artificial  hypotheses  are 
requisite." 

Evidently,  then,  psychology  investigates  all  that 
we  apprehend  through  Internal  perception.  If  we 
apprehend  anything  by  external  perception.  It  must 
submit  to  transmutation  by  the  "  inner,"  in  order  to 
enter  into  experience  as  an  effective  component. 
I  am  unable  to  see  that  any  other  meaning 
can  be  read  into  this  view  than  that  formula- 
ted in  the  current  theory  of  psycho-physical  paral- 
lelism. Causal  connection  between  body  and 
body  there  is  none;  and  the  contrasts  In  our  Inner 
experience  of  them  reside  in  apprehension,  never 
In  actual  reality.  The  plain  business  of  psychol- 
ogy,  therefore,   consists  In  applying  observation, 


PSYCHOLOGY  139 

experiment  and  hypothesis  to  the  "  inner."  Just 
as  with  science,  regressive  analysis  supplies  the 
methods. 

Beneke  concludes  that  psychological  processes 
present  themselves  as  complexes  fashioned  from 
four  primary  factors.  These  are :  ( i )  The  trans- 
mutation of  sense  "excitations";  (2)  the  forma- 
tion of  new  "  powers  " —  analogous,  it  may  be 
said,  to  the  growth  of  new  tissue;  (3)  the  redistri- 
bution of  "excitations"  (sensuous)  and  of  these 
new  "powers"  or  products  themselves;  (4)  the 
interpenetration  of  homogeneous  products,  ac- 
cording to  their  degree  of  homogeneity.  Ob- 
viously enough,  redistribution,  or  transference, 
within  the  psychological  complex,  forms  the  domi- 
nant feature ;  and  its  remarkable  similarity  to  mod- 
ern energistic  conceptions  or,  as  Professor  Titch- 
ener  remarks  acutely,  "  to  the  process  by  which 
one  body  becomes  cooler  by  communicating  heat  to 
another,"  needs  no  comment.  Whatever  one  may 
think  of  Beneke's  special  doctrines,  he  stands  to 
his  material  in  the  attitude  of  a  positive  scientific 
investigator.  If  Herbart  worked  like  a  mathe- 
matical physicist,  Beneke  works  like  a  biologist. 
Indeed,  he  reminds  one  of  the  French  school 
of  so-called  '  organicists  ' —  Bichat,  Claude  Ber- 
nard, Delage  and,  perhaps,  Roux.  I  think  a 
specious  case  could  be  framed  for  a  parallelism  be- 
tween  Beneke's   teaching  and   Claude   Bernard's 


140         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

biological  conclusion,  especially  as  formulated  in 
the  second  Leqon  in  the  first  volume  of  his  Lecons 
stir  les  Phenomenes  de  la  Vie  (1874),  which  con- 
tains the  striking  declaration:  "  la  fixlte  du  milieu 
interieur  est  la  condition  de  la  vie  libre  independ- 
ante."  Be  this  as  it  may,  Beneke  brought  psy- 
chology within  the  field  of  scientific  inquiry.  Like 
Herbart's,  his  conclusions  might  be  stigmatised, 
but  that  both  made  preparatory  contributions  there 
can  be  little  reasonable  doubt.  The  attitude  they 
adopted  is  of  the  essence  of  the  matter.  And  one 
ought  to  add  that  the  presence  of  unconscious  or 
subconscious  factors  in  the  physical  process,  a 
highly  significant  phenomenon,  follows  from  the 
situation  as  contemplated  by  them. 

IV. 

This  brings  us  at  length  to  the  true  physi- 
ological line,  and  to  the  rapid  assimilation 
of  psychology  to  positive  science.  The  start- 
ing point  lies  in  that  French  group  whom 
Napoleon  nicknamed  contemptuously,  les  Ideo- 
logues: Cabanis,  de  Tracy,  Laromiguiere,  and 
Maine  de  BIran.  Cabanis  and  de  Tracy  were 
the  leaders  in  all  essentials.  Their  movement 
formed  part  of  the  mighty  revolutionary 
upheaval.  By  analysis  of  sensations  "and  ideas 
they  proposed  to  discover  a  method  of  remould- 
ing society,  government  and  education  for  prac- 


A 


PSYCHOLOGY  141 

deal  purposes.  De  Tracy  (1754-183 6)  elabo- 
rated what  Beneke  would  have  termed  the 
"  inner  "  side  of  ideology.  His  noteworthy  ef- 
forts lie  in  the  fields  of  language,  grammar  and 
logic,  of  economics  and  government,  of  morals  and 
education.  Yet  the  influence  of  science  upon  him, 
as  upon  his  fellows,  produced  results  that  should 
receive  notice  here.  He  anticipated  Comte  in 
the  view  that  knowledge,  properly  so  called,  con- 
sists in  an  organised  system  of  the  sciences ;  "  posi- 
tive science,"  as  he  declares,  and  to  him,  more 
than  to  Comte  and  his  pupils,  we  owe  this  term, 
now  beatified.  In  the  second  place,  and  coming 
to  the  physiological  reference,  he  was  the  first  to 
recognise  the  importance  of  muscular  activity  as  a 
factor  in  consciousness.  This  formed  his  point  of 
contact  with  Cabanis,  who  studied  what  Beneke 
would  have  called  the  ''  outer  " —  the  physiological 
accompaniments  of  pyschological  processes. 

Cabanis  (i 757-1 808)  inherited  the  English 
sensational  tendencies  represented  in  France  by 
Condillac,  but  he  added  that  acquaintance  with 
the  human  body  which  he  acquired  as  a  physician. 
In  his  person  the  philosophical  and  physiological 
lines  coincided.  His  principal  work.  Rapports 
du  Physique  et  du  Morale  de  VHomme,  grew  out 
of  a  series  of  papers  read  before  the  French  In- 
stitute and  published  in  its  proceedings  for 
1798-99.     So  far  as  he  possessed  any  consistent 


142         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

philosophical  standpoint,  Cabanis  was  a  pantheist 
(and,  therefore,  in  speculative  physiology,  a  vi- 
talist) ,  as  his  posthumous  Lettres  sur  les  Causes 
premieres  (1824)  and  his  discussion  of  the  Stoics 
in  the  Rapports  show.  Nevertheless,  later  ma- 
terialists find  precedent  for  their  most  striking 
metaphor  in  his  pages.  As  the  liver  secretes  bile 
and  the  kidneys  urine,  so  the  brain  secretes 
thought;  thus  ran  Karl  Vogt's  raucous  challenge 
(1847).  Cabanis  employed  the  very  phrase 
"  secretion  of  thought "  which,  as  his  editor, 
Peisse,  says,  ''  has  remained  celebrated."  But  the 
classical  passage,  also  in  the  Rapports,  reads  as 
follows:  "  In  order  to  arrive  at  a  correct  idea  of 
those  operations  from  which  thought  arises,  we 
must  consider  the  brain  as  a  particular  organ,  des- 
tined specially  to  produce  it  in  the  same  way  as 
the  stomach  and  the  intestines  are  there  to  per- 
form digestion,  the  liver  to  filter  the  bile,  the  paro- 
tid, maxillary  and  sublingual  glands  to  prepare  the 
salivary  juice."  This  is  the  clear  summons  to  a 
'  physiological  '  psychology.  Very  naturally,  Ca- 
banis aimed  to  supply  what  Condillac  had  omitted. 
Condillac's  sensationalism,  like  that  of  the  Eng- 
lish school,  found  basis  in  the  external  senses.  It 
therefore  missed  those  organic  and  internal 
changes  which  physiology  alone  could  set  forth. 
Accordingly,  Cabanis  insisted  that  multitudes  of 
impressions  proceed  continually  from  the  internal 


PSYCHOLOGY  143 

organs  to  the  brain,  and  that  the  conditions  of  the 
cerebro-splnal  system  form  a  determining  factor 
In  this  process.  Or,  to  be  more  emphatic,  as  it 
continues  to  maintain  its  unstable  equilibrium,  the 
organism  originates  vital  feelings  within  itself  — 
feelings  that  bear  no  direct  reference  to  the  ex- 
ternal world.  That  Is,  the  Impressions  of  Locke 
and  Hume  do  not  play  upon  a  tabula  rasa,  but  are 
met,  and  twisted,  by  these  organic  feelings.  The 
unconscious  joins  up  with  the  conscious.  Of  this 
process  instinct  offers  a  conspicuous  example. 
Here,  primordial  experiences,  traceable  to  the  em- 
bryo, provide  a  foundation  of  organic  sensation 
which  (in  the  light  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution) 
would  explain  away  psychological  processes  as 
automatic — as  epiphenomena  of  the  bodily  sub- 
strate. In  this  respect  Cabanis  was  a  prophet. 
Nevertheless,  despite  his  studies  of  age,  sex,  tem- 
perament, sensibility,  irritability,  habit,  climate, 
the  foetus  and  Instinct,  he  fails  to  work  through  his 
great  theme  with  the  necessary  grasp  upon  detail. 
His  epoch  would  not  let  him.  Yet  he  saw  the 
promised  land  afar  off.  For,  to  him,  psychology 
was  already  a  natural  science.  It  traffics  with 
phenomena,  never  with  metaphysical  realities,  and 
its  material  must  be  found  in  the  relation  of  mental 
states  to  physiological  conditions.  Hampered 
everywhere  by  contemporary  Ignorance  of  nervous 
anatomy,  he  still  contrived  to  formulate  a  vivid 


144         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

and  convincing  psycho-physiological  schema,  for 
which,  we  may  as  well  confess,  due  praise  has 
never  been  accorded  him.  Physiology  passed  to 
another  land,  and  he  fell  Into  an  oblivion  rather 
discreditable  to  the  historical  Insight  of  those  who 
came  to  elaborate  his  anticipations. 

Plainly  a  '  physiological '  psychology  cannot 
emerge  in  absence  of  a  physiology.  The  numer- 
ous accessions  of  physiological  knowledge  during 
the  last  seventy  years  tend  to  obscure  the  un- 
propitious  outlook  at  the  dawn  of  the  period. 
Referring  to  the  time  (1841)  when  he  became 
preparateiir  to  his  distinguished  predecessor,  Ma- 
gendie,  at  the  College  de  France,  Claude 
Bernard  drew  a  gloomy  picture.  The  established 
*  natural  history  '  sciences  —  geology,  botany,  zo- 
ology—  possessed  fair  equipment,  particularly  on 
the  museum  side.  While  chemistry,  thanks  doubt- 
less, to  Lleblg's  activity  at  Giessen,  made  rapid 
strides.  But  physiology  enjoyed  no  such  advan- 
tages, was  opposed,  indeed,  even  by  a  genius 
of  the  calibre  of  Cuvier.  "  So  soon  as  an  experi- 
mental physiologist  was  discovered  he  was  de- 
nounced; he  was  given  over  to  the  reproaches  of 
his  neighbours  and  subjected  to  annoyances  by  the 
police."  Sir  Charles  Bell  had  set  forth  the  con- 
trasted functions  of  the  anterior  and  posterior  roots 
of  the  spinal  nerves  (1807),  but  had  given  no 
experimental  proof:  and  Marshall  Hall   (1835) 


J 


PSYCHOLOGY  145 

had  discovered  the  reflex  function  of  the  spinal 
cord.  But  no  group  of  Investigators  had  arisen 
such  as  was  to  place  Germany  in  the  leadership. 
Her  preeminence,  unchallenged  still  for  '  physi- 
ological '  psychology,  dates  from  the  life-work  of 
Johannes  Miiller,  and  his  profound  influence,  es- 
pecially at  Berlin,  from  1833  till  his  death.  In  the 
year  before  The  Origin  of  Species  (1859). 

At  this  date  the  intellectual  condition  of  Ger- 
many may  be  called  unprecedented  without  exag- 
geration. And  the  fate  reserved  for  unique 
things  has  overtaken  It.  Later  men,  particularly 
on  the  scientific  side,. have  heaped  on  it  multiplied 
misunderstanding  or  even  obloquy.  Despite  the 
bluster  of  those  who  have  never  studied  their 
works,  Schelling  and  Hegel  were  no  day-dreamers, 
evolving  camels  from  inner  self-consciousness. 
Both  were  great  men,  and  Hegel  ranks  among  the 
few  marvellous  Intellects  of  history.  But  both 
suffered  from  their  very  success.  Hegel's  philoso- 
phy formed  the  seedplot  of  that  comparative  and 
critical  Wissenschaft  for  which  human  history  sup- 
plies the  material.  As  these  disciplines  de- 
veloped, the  defects  of  the  Hegelian  system  be- 
came more  and  more  irremediable.  Yet,  the  sys- 
tem lacking,  the  sciences  could  not  have  come  to 
birth.  Schelling  stood  in  similar  case.  German 
science  from  1797,  the  year  of  the  publication  of 
his  Ideen  zur  einer  Philosophie  der  Natur^   till 


146         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

1830  or  thereby,  drew  Inspiration  from  his  hu- 
mane, If  vaulting,  spirit.  Alex,  von  Humboldt, 
as  his  biographer  Bruhns  points  out,  attempted 
"  by  means  of  a  comprehensive  collation  of  details, 
and  the  Institution  of  the  most  searching  compari- 
sons, to  give  a  scientific  foundation  to  the  Ideal 
cosmology  of  Herder,  Goethe,  Schelling  and  their 
disciples."  Further,  Schelling  stimulated  Carus, 
the  comparative  anatomist;  Oersted,  the  father 
of  electro-magnetism ;  Klelmeyer,  an  anticipator  of 
biogenesis;  I.  Dollinger,  of  Wiirzburg,  who  Inocu- 
lated von  Baer  with  genetic  ideas;  von  Baer  him- 
self, who,  more  objectively  than  any  other  scientific 
man,  has  estimated  the  germinal  significance  of 
the  Naturphilo Sophie;  Llebig,  the  pioneer  of 
laboratory  methods  In  chemistry;  Johannes  Miil- 
ler,  the  first  main  constructive  power  in  modern 
physiology;  Kiser,  the  early  exponent  of  plant 
phytotemy;  Schonlein  and  Roschlaub,  leaders  in 
the  remarkable  band  who  founded  the  Berlin 
school  of  medicine.  Nay  more,  his  power  burst 
forth  again,  significantly  for  psychology,  as  a  factor 
In  the  equipment  of  Fechner.  Thus,  like  Hegel, 
Schelling  paved  the  way  for  his  own  fall,  by  send- 
ing others  to  search  out  the  secrets  of  nature. 
Accordingly,  even  If  the  vagaries  of  Oken  alien- 
ate, and  If  Steffens'  analogies  between  the  catas- 
trophles  of  the  human  spirit  and  the  disturbances 
of  the  earth's  crust  furnish  queer  geology,  there 


PSYCHOLOGY  147 

were  no  call  to  '  swear  at  large,'  to  rush  around 
shouting  '  vitalism  1  '  or  otherwise  to  evince  com- 
plete lack  of  the  balance  necessary  to  an  estimate 
of  the  crisis.  Somnambulists  haunt  the  fringes  of 
all  movements,  but  we  fool  ourselves  when  we  take 
them  for  prototypes.  New  Ideas  ever  were 
heady;  this  happens  to  be  the  price  set  upon  their 
power  to  reveal  unsuspected  problems,  as  Schell- 
Ing  and  his  galaxy  of  scholars  did. 

Johannes  Miiller,  then,  found  himself  born  into 
this  romantic  age.  He  tended  the  new  scientific 
spirit  to  budding,  but,  unlike  von  Baer,  he  died  ere 
It  blossomed.  Speaking  under  reservation,  ^s  an 
ignorant  man  must,  I  would  venture  to  suggest 
that  he  did  not  enter  fully  Into  Hegel's  epoch- 
making  Idea  of  process.  So  far  as  I  can  compre- 
hend his  activity,  he  was  a  student  chiefly  of  the 
organism  in  gross,  that  is,  a  morphologlst,  rather 
than  an  investigator  of  vital  processes,  a  physi- 
ologist. His  Importance  lay  In  his  Ideals  more 
than  in  his  results.  "  A  profound  teacher,"  as  his 
pupil  Helmholtz  declared,  he  created  an  atmos- 
phere which  his  pupils  breathed,  and  he  lives  in 
their  splendid  work  rather  than  In  any  single 
achievement  of  his  own.  In  essentials  this  atmos- 
phere held  the  modern  perspective.  For,  al- 
though, as  du  Bois  Reymond  has  recorded,  he 
"  assumed  the  existence  of  a  vital  force  .  .  . 
which  in  organisms  acts  the  part  of  a  supreme 


148         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

regulator,"  this  '  force  '  ruled  the  realm  of  the 
unknown  only.  In  all  that  could  be  mastered  by 
contemporary  methods  and  means  Miiller  ac- 
cepted the  physico-chemical  view.  His  studies  of 
nutrition,  animal  heat,  motion  and  reflex  action, 
his  contributions  to  acoustics  and  the  phenomena 
of  speech  embody,  not  simply  his  own  work,  they 
also  supply  a  masterly  unification  of  previous 
knowledge.  But,  especially  as  concerns  *  phys- 
iological '  psychology,  his  major  result  was  un- 
doubtedly his  doctrine  of  "  specific  energies."  No 
matter  what  the  stimulus,  the  same  nerve  always 
originates  the  same  sensation.  "  Miiller's  law  of 
the  specific  energies  marks  an  advance  of  the 
greatest  Importance  .  .  .  and  Is,  In  a  certain 
sense,  the  empirical  exposition  of  the  theoretical 
discussion  of  Kant  on  the  nature  of  the  Intellectual 
process  In  the  human  mind."  Of  course,  Miiller's 
views  drew  criticism,  but  for  us  now  the  point  Is 
that  they  started  activity  which,  bit  by  bit,  built 
*  physiological '  psychology  Into  a  science. 

Fortunate  In  his  disciples  —  Briicke,  Helm- 
holtz,  du  Bois  Reymond,  Ludwig,  Czermak,  Bon- 
ders (most  teachers  would  forego  all  personal 
glory  gladly  to  obtain  such  human  material)  — 
Miiller  enjoyed  luck  in  the  contemporary  course 
of  events.  For  a  science  more  developed  and 
surer  of  itself  than  physiology  was  about  to  join 
forces  with  the  newer  branch.     Magnus,  his  Berlin 


PSYCHOLOGY  149 

colleague  in  physics,  became  the  focal  point  of  a 
movement  to  which  Mitscherlich,  Liebig,  Ohm,  F. 
Neumann,  and  the  brothers  Weber  all  contributed, 
the  first  and  last  notably.  The  sobering  drill  of 
hard,  experimental  fact  gained  recognition  here. 
Or,  as  we  say  in  philosophy,  the  prose  of  Kant  was 
added  to  the  romance  of  Schelling.  For  '  phys- 
iological '  psychology  the  steadying  influence  came 
most  through  Ernst  Heinrich  Weber,  of  Leipzig 
( 1 795-1 878).  Weber,  with  his  younger  brothers, 
Wilhelm  and  Eduard,  worked  from  the  first  along 
distinctively  modern  lines.  The  speculative 
thought,  prevalent  in  his  youth,  seems  to  have 
passed  over  his  head.  Exact  experimental 
methods  came  naturally,  as  it  were,  to  him  and  to 
his  brothers.  From  early  life  they  employed 
mechanical  and  mathematical  analyses  in  dealing 
with  physical,  physiological  and  psychological 
phenomena.  Kunze,  Fechner's  nephew  and  biog- 
rapher, goes  so  far  as  to  say,  "  They  were  among 
the  first  to  raise  the  study  of  nature  among  Ger- 
mans to  the  eminence  occupied  by  the  philosophers 
and  discoverers  of  the  Latin  races."  Their  first 
joint  research  is  typical  of  this.  In  the  JVellens- 
lehre  auf  Experimente  hegriindet  they  add  to 
Chladni's  acoustic  theory  a  parallel  account  for 
light,  which  leads  substantially  to  the  inference  of 
an  elastic  ether.  Prior  to  this,  Weber  had  pub- 
lished researches  on  the  Comparative  Anatomy  of 


150         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

the  Sympathetic  Nerves  (1817)  and  On  the  Ear 
and  Hearing  in  Men  and  Animals  (1827).  His 
psychological  contributions  appeared  in  Wagner's 
Handworterhuch  der  Physiologie,  Vol.  III.,  part 
2  (1831),  and  in  the  Archiv  fiir  anatomische 
Physiologie  (1835).  The  classical  paper,  Tast- 
sinn  und  Gemeingefiihl,  was  printed  in  the  former 
and  published  separately  in  185 1.  Weber  here 
applied  the  method  of  least  observable  differences 
to  sensations  of  pressure  and  to  the  measurement 
of  lines  by  the  eye.  These  experiments  resulted 
in  the  generalisation  to  which  the  name  "  Weber's 
Law,"  or  the  "  Fechner- Weber  Law,"  or  the 
*'  Psycho-physical  Law,"  has  been  given.  Refer- 
ring to  this  discovery,  in  the  preface  to  the  first 
great  book  on  '  physiological '  psychology,  Fechner 
affirms:  "The  empirical  law  which  forms  the 
principal  foundation,  was  laid  down  long  ago  by 
different  students  in  different  branches,  and  was 
expressed  with  comparative  generality  by  E.  H. 
Weber,  whom  I  would  call  the  father  of  psycho- 
physics."  The  law  summarises  mathematically 
the  relation  between  physiological  stimulus  and 
psychical  sense-perception.  It  is  based  on  the 
fact,  familiar  in  common  experience,  and  now 
authenticated  by  numerous  observations  and  ex- 
periments, that  the  difference  between  two>  sensa- 
tions bears  no  direct  proportion  to  the  actual  dif- 
ference between  their  stimuli.     Granted  that  the 


PSYCHOLOGY  i^i 

least  observable  difference  be  a  constant,  then,  the 
strength  of  sensations  does  not  grow  in  propor- 
tion to  stimulus,  but  much  more  slowly.  Weber's 
experiments  were  directed  towards  measuring  the 
exact  proportions,  and  involved  comparisons  of 
lines  by  the  eye,  of  weights  and  of  tones.  The 
resultant  generalisation  has  been  formulated  in 
various  ways.  The  most  direct  are  as  follows: 
"  In  order  that  the  intensity  of  a  sensation  may 
increase  in  arithmetical  progression,  the  stimulus 
must  increase  in  geometrical  progression";  or,  as 
put  more  briefly  by  Fechner,  "  the  sensation  in- 
creases as  the  logarithm  of  the  stimulus  " ;  or,  as 
Delboeuf  has  it,  "  the  smallest  perceptible  dif- 
ference between  two  excitations  of  the  same  na- 
ture is  always  due  to  a  real  difference  which  grows 
proportionately  to  the  excitations  themselves." 
Like  all  laws,  so-called,  this  one  Is  an  abstraction 
from  experience.  Consequently,  it  has  been  sub- 
jected to  various  interpretations,  has  been  trans- 
formed and  criticised,  and  even  denied.  Again, 
like  all  laws,  so-called  {e.  g.,  Boyle's  Law),  it 
holds  good  only  within  limits,  and  round  this 
aspect  of  the  matter  multitudinous  experiments 
cluster.  Whatever  psychological  experts  may 
consider  to  be  the  present  status  of  the  conclusion, 
Weber's  withers  are  unwrung.  His  crowning 
achievement  was  to  have  shown  that  measurements 
and  mathematical  methods  can  be  applied  in  this 


152         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

region  of  experience.  He  thus  served  himself  the 
founder  of  the  Leipzig  line,  the  torch  passing 
from  him  to  Lotze,  then  to  Fechner,  and  finally 
to  Wundt. 

As  at  the  beginning  of  modern  European 
thought,  in  Descartes,  Spinoza,  and  Leibniz,  so 
here  in  the  Leipzig  men,  philosophical  insight  and 
power  were  joined  to  scientific  competence.  I, 
therefore,  leave  them  for  a  moment  to  take  a 
glimpse  —  it  can  be  no  more  —  at  the  strictly 
scientific  interest  as  we  see  it  illustrated  in  Johannes 
Miiller's  greatest  pupil,  Helmholtz  (1821-94). 

Helmholtz  ranks  not  simply  with  the  foremost 
scientific  intellects  of  the  nineteenth  century  but 
with  the  master  minds  of  all  time.     His  range 
grasp  and  Insight  combined  to  render  him  monu 
mental.     A  contributor  to  at  least  eight  sciences 
—  physics,  physiology,  mathematical  physics,  me 
teorology,  medicine,  chemistry,  anatomy  and  aes 
thetics  —  in  three  of  them  he  stands  high  among 
the  foremost.     More  than  this,  as  Volkmann  has 
recalled,  "  one  of  his  chief  merits  was  to  establish  a 
harmony  between  the  vast  accumulation  of  facts 
that  characterised  the  period  comprehending  the 
middle  of  this  century  and  the  more  theoretical 
studies."     Besides,  he  possessed  unusual  manipu- 
lative skill,  his  inventions  of  the  ophthalmoscope 
and   ophthalmometer   alone   would  have   assured 
any  ordinary   reputation.     Above   all,   he   was   a 


PSYCHOLOGY  153 

humanist,  being  an  accomplished  musician,  an  art 
critic,  and  acquainted  with  the  trend  of  philo- 
sophical thought.  His  discoveries  of  classical  grade 
amaze  one  by  their  thoroughness  and  versatility. 
The  conservation  of  energy;  the  mechanism  of  the 
lens  of  the  eye  in  relation  to  accommodation;  the 
movements  of  the  eyeballs  with  the  attendant 
problems  of  binocular  and  stereoscopic  vision;  the 
profoundest  questions  of  hydrodynamics,  ther- 
modynamics and  electrodynamics,  the  last  cul- 
minating In  the  revelations  of  his  favourite  pupil, 
Helnrlch  Hertz;  the  axioms  of  geometry;  the 
dark  places  of  meteorology;  the  deeps  of  physi- 
ological optics  and  of  mathematical  physics,  all 
bear  witness  to  his  profound,  masculine  and  subtle 
intellect.  But,  for  our  present  study,  the  palm 
must  go  to  his  long  struggle  with  the  difficulties  of 
sensation  and  perception.  These  absorbed  his 
principal  attention  from  185.2  till  1867  and,  in  a 
lesser  degree,  till  his  death.  He  laid  the  founda- 
tion characteristically  by  his  inquiries  into  the  rate 
of  nervous  impulse  in  the  motor  and  sensory  nerves, 
about  1850,  and  his  first  paper,  on  sensation  proper, 
followed  In  1852.  These  labours  were  crowned 
magnificently  by  the  publication.  In  1863,  of  his 
Sensations  of  Tone,  and.  In  1867,  of  his  Physiolog- 
ical Optics  —  masterpieces  both.  The  former, 
which  involved  the  most  complicated  research,  has 
earned  the  title,  ''  the  Principia  of  acoustics,"  and 


154         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

must  be  studied  long  to  be  appreciated.  For,  it 
not  only  ranged  over  the  entire  subject  but,  inci- 
dentally, raised  important  problems  that  belong 
elsewhere,  especially  to  the  domains  of  phonology 
and  aesthetics.  Questions  about  the  quality  of  the 
human  voice  and  the  absolute  pitch  of  vowel 
sounds  lead  us  away  from  physical  and  physiolog- 
ical laboratories  to  a  very  different  environment. 
Similarly,  the  Physiological  Optics,  with  the 
Young-Helmholtz  theory  of  colour,  presents  In- 
vestigations about  which  psychologists  are  bound 
to  trouble  for  many  a  day. 

Thus,  the  significance  of  Helmholtz's  career 
may  be  traced  to  his  combination  of  the  mathe- 
matical and  exact-scientific  with  the  humanistic  in- 
terest, a  union  to  which  we  may  attribute  our  great- 
est advances  alike  In  science  and  in  Intellectual  In- 
sight. And  this  fitted  him  rarely  to  execute  work 
of  abiding  value  for  '  physiological '  psychology. 
No  one  has  contrived  to  reach  better  results  in 
those  unplumbed  reaches  of  experience  where  the 
joint  action  of  body  and  mind  can  be  studied  with 
a  measure  of  success.  Proceeding  from  the  theory 
of  "  specific  energy "  of  his  master  Muller,  he 
wrought  It  out  In  detail,  eminently  for  the  mechan- 
ism of  sight  and  hearing,  by  experimental  methods 
and  by  mathematlco-physlcal  analyses.  Upon  the 
romantic  interest  In  nature  stimulated  by  Schelling 
he   superimposed  the   critical  processes   of   Kant, 


PSYCHOLOGY  155 

armed  with  all  the  resources  of  the  most  delicate 
apparatus  and  rigid  analytic  procedure.  This 
coalition  of  endowment  and  outlook  continued  in 
the  three  leaders  who  were  destined  to  build  pys- 
chology  into  an  independent  science  —  Lotze, 
Fechner  and  Wundt. 


Lotze's  (18 17-81)  career  as  an  author  opened 
in  1 841,  and  his  psychological  contributions  rele- 
vant to  the  present  theme  came  to  an  end  practi- 
cally in  1852.  Thereafter,  save  for  a  few  arti- 
cles, he  devoted  himself  to  the  elaboration  of  his 
highly  significant  philosophical  system.  He  there- 
fore antedated  the  work  of  Helmholtz.  A  prom- 
inent figure  in  the  bitter  controversy  over  vitalism 
and  materialism  (1847-60),  he  suffered  grave 
misunderstanding;  nevertheless,  thanks  to  lapse  of 
time,  his  psychological  position  admits  of  no  doubt. 

The  son  of  a  physician,  Lotze  entered  the  Uni- 
versity of  Leipzig  to  prepare  for  the  paternal  pro- 
fession. Under  the  influence  of  Weisse  he  be- 
came interested  in  philosophy,  and,  upon  gradua- 
tion, qualified  as  Docent  in  both  the  medical 
and  philosophical  faculties.  Till  1852  the  studies 
proper  to  the  former  predominated,  philosophy 
claimed  him  later,  and  his  system  represents  more 
symptomatically  than  any  other  the  stress  resultant 
upon  the  cross-currents  of  modern  thought.     It  is 


156         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

meaningful  that  he  occupied  successively  Herbart's 
chair  at  Gottingen  and  Hegel's  at  Berlin. 

In  1842  he  took  a  decided  stand,  or  even  lead, 
in  the  vitalist  controversy,  and  also  published  his 
General  Pathology  and  Therapeutics  as  Mechan- 
ical Sciences.  His  General  Physiology  of  the 
Corporeal  Life  appeared  in  1851  and,  in  the  next 
year,  the  work  of  importance  for  us  now  —  Medi- 
cal Psychology,  or  Physiology  of  the  Soul, 
Viewed  in  the  perspective  of  cultural  development, 
especially  in  Germany,  his  position  seems  quite 
evident.     Here  is  his  own  statement  of  it: 

"  We  have  two  kinds  of  scientific  knowledge. 
We  know,  on  the  one  hand,  nature,  the  essence  of 
the  object  studied;  on  the  other  hand,  we  know 
only  the  external  relations  that  are  possible  be- 
tween it  and  other  objects.  In  the  first  kind  of 
knowledge,  there  is  a  possible  question  of  a  cognitio 
rei  only  when  our  intelligence  apprehends  an  ob- 
ject, not  simply  under  the  form  of  external  being, 
but  in  an  intuition  so  immediate  that  we  are  able, 
by  our  senses  and  Ideas,  to  penetrate  its  peculiar 
nature,  and  consequently,  to  know  what  ought  to 
be,  according  to  its  internal  and  specific  essence, 
the  order  of  such  a  being.  On  the  contrary,  the 
other  kind  of  scientific  knowledge,  the  external, 
cognitio  circa  rem,  does  not  penetrate"  to  the  es- 
sence of  things,  but  consists  mainly  in  a  clear  and 
precise    apprehension    of    the    conditions    under 


PSYCHOLOGY  157 

which  the  object  manifests  itself  to  us,  and  into 
which,  in  consequence  of  its  variable  relations  to 
other  objects,  it  is  regularly  transformed." 

Prior  to  Lotze's  generation,  philosophy  had 
shaped  scientific  learning,  leaving,  at  the  same 
time,  a  large  field  open  only  to  strict  scientific 
treatment.  In  his  person,  science  shapes  philoso- 
phy, leaving,  at  the  same  time,  a  large  field  open 
only  to  strict  philosophical  treatment.  One  is  sur- 
prised that  such  a  simple  explanation  should  have 
escaped  notice,  and  that  a  presentation  of  Lotze 
so  fantastic — almost  impertinent  —  as  that  of 
Ribot,  for  example,  should  have  been  perpetrated. 
Lotze's  ability  to  see  both  sides  of  a  problem, 
and  his  consequent  sense  for  the  limits  of  *  phys- 
iological '  psychology  (which,  in  my  humble  judg- 
ment, remains  completely  justified  still  in  essen- 
tials), provide  the  clue  to  his  attitude.  So,  he 
really  presents  two  kinds  of  psychology.  The 
one  would  investigate  the  factors,  combinations 
and  mechanism  of  consciousness;  the  other  would 
consider  the  import  of  consciousness,  and  the  end 
(if  any)  which  it  subserves  in  the  universe.  To 
understand  the  latter  it  is  necessary  to  master  his 
very  subtle  cosmology  {Metaphysics,  Bk.  II). 
The  former  is  *  physiological '  psychology,  and 
has  been  presented  more  particularly  in  Bks.  II. 
and  III.  of  the  Medical  Psychology.  Here  Lotze 
writes  as  a  scientific  man,  and  the  "  conception  of 


158         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

a  psycho-physical  mechanism"  suffices;  that  is, 
physical,  chemical  and  physiological  causality  rules. 
Thus,  he  regards  "  physiology  of  the  soul  as  an 
exposition  of  the  mechanical  conditions  to  which, 
according  to  our  observation,  the  life  of  the  soul 
is  attached."  "  The  conception  of  a  psycho-phys- 
ical mechanism  can  be  stated  as  follows :  As  ideas, 
volitions  and  other  mental  states  cannot  be  com- 
pared with  the  quantitative  and  special  properties 
of  matter,  but  as,  nevertheless,  the  latter  seem  to 
follow  upon  the  former,  it  is  evident  that  two  es- 
sentially different,  totally  disparate,  series  of  pro- 
cesses, one  bodily  and  one  mental,  run  parallel  to 
each  other.  In  the  intensive  quality  of  a  mental 
process  the  extensive  definiteness  of  the  material 
process  can  never  be  found;  but  if  the  one  is  to  call 
forth  the  other,  the  proportionality  between  them 
must  be  secured  through  a  connection  which  ap- 
pears to  be  extrinsic  to  both.  There  must  exist 
general  laws,  which  ensure  that  with  a  modifica- 
tion (a)  of  the  mental  substance  a  modification 
(b)  of  the  bodily  substance  shall  be  connected, 
and  it  is  only  in  consequence  of  this  independent 
rule,  and  not  through  its  own  power  and  impulse, 
that  a  change  in  the  soul  produces  a  corresponding 
one  in  the  body.  ...  It  is  quite  indifferent  to 
medicine  wherein  the  mysterious  union  of  soul  and 
body  consists,  as  this  is  the  constant  event  which 
lies  equally  at  the  bottom  of  all  phenomena.     But 


PSYCHOLOGY  159 

it  Is  of  the  greatest  Interest  to  medicine  to  know 
what  affections  of  the  soul  are  connected  in  that 
mysterious  manner  with  what  affections  of  the 
body."  Accordingly,  his  phenomenal  psychology- 
was  guided  by  competent  knowledge  of  physics 
and  physiology,  the  latter,  as  we  must  recall,  being 
a  subject  which  he  actually  professed.  His  spec- 
ulative psychology,  dealing  with  the  mysterious 
union,  falls  within  his  philosophy. 

The  third  book  of  the  Medical  Psychology, 
which  still  holds  lessons  for  the  physician,  deals 
with  such  subjects  as  sleep,  attention,  emotion,  the 
influence  of  the  flow  of  consciousness  upon  secre- 
tion, nutrition,  and  instinct,  and  with  abnormal 
psychology.  The  second  book  reviews  the  factors 
of  self-consciousness,  especially  In  the  light  of  the 
relation  between  the  physiological  mechanism  and 
the  mind.  It  thus  includes  his  most  distinctive 
contribution  to  '  physiological '  psychology  —  the 
famous  theory  of  "  local  signs."  This  is  an 
integral  part  of  his  analysis  of  space-perception, 
one  of  the  subtlest  ever  formulated.  His  latest 
presentation  of  it  runs  thus: 

"  Let  It  be  assumed  that  the  soul  once  for  all 
lies  under  the  necessity  of  mentally  presenting  a 
certain  manifold  as  in  juxtaposition  in  space;  How 
does  it  come  to  localise  every  individual  impres- 
sion at  a  definite  place  In  the  space  intuited  by  it, 
in  such  manner  that  the  entire  image  thus  intuited 


i6o         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

is  similar  to  the  external  object  which  acted  on  the 
eye? 

Obviously,  such  a  clue  must  He  in  the  impres- 
sions themselves.  The  simple  quality  of  the  sen- 
sation '  green  '  or  '  red  '  does  not,  however,  con- 
tain it;  for  every  such  colour  can  in  turn  appear  at 
every  point  In  space,  and  on  this  account  does  not, 
of  Itself,  require  always  to  be  referred  to  the  one 
definite  point. 

We  now  remind  ourselves,  however,  that  the 
carefulness  with  which  the  regular  position  on  the 
retina  of  the  particular  excitations  is  secured,  can- 
not be  without  a  purpose.  To  be  sure,  an  impres- 
sion is  not  seen  at  a  definite  point  on  account  of  its 
being  situated  at  such  a  point;  but  it  may  perhaps 
by  means  of  this  definite  situation  act  on  the  soul 
otherwise  than  if  it  were  elsewhere  situated. 

Accordingly  we  conceive  of  this  in  the  follow- 
ing way:  Every  impression  of  colour  'r' — for 
example,  red  —  produces  on  all  places  of  the  ret- 
ina, which  it  reaches,  the  same  sensation  of  red- 
ness. In  addition  to  this,  however,  it  produces 
on  each  of  these  different  places,  a,  b,  c,  a  certain 
accessory  Impression,  «,  /?,  ;',  which  is  independent 
of  the  nature  of  the  colour  seen,  and  dependent 
merely  on  the  nature  of  the  place  excited.  This 
second  local  impression  would  therefore"  be  asso- 
ciated with  every  impression  of  colour  '  r,'  in  such 
a  manner  that  rcc  signifies  a  red  that  acts  on  the 


PSYCHOLOGY  i6i 

point,  a,  r/9  signifies  the  same  red  in  case  it  acts 
on  the  point  h.  These  associated  accessory  im- 
pressions would,  accordingly  render  for  the  soul 
the  clue,  by  following  which  it  transposes  the  same 
red,  now  to  one,  now  to  another  spot,  or  simul- 
taneously to  different  spots  in  the  space  intuited 
by  it. 

In  order,  however,  that  this  may  take  place  in 
a  methodical  way,  these  accessory  impressions 
must  be  completely  different  from  the  main  impres- 
sions, the  colours,  and  must  not  disturb  the  latter. 
They  must  be,  however,  not  merely  of  the  same 
kind  among  themselves,  but  wholly  definite  mem- 
bers of  a  series  or  system  of  series;  so  that  for  ev- 
ery impression  *  r '  there  may  be  assigned,  by  the 
aid  of  this  adjoined  '  local  sign,'  not  merely  a 
particular,  but  a  quite  definite  spot  among  all  the 
rest  of  the  impressions.  The  foregoing  is  the 
theory  of  *  Local  Signs.'  " 

The  best  anatomical  and  physiological  researches 
fail  to  reveal  spatial  order  as  inherent  in  sensa- 
tion; and,  even  if  this  ignorance  be  due  to  the  im- 
possibility of  following  up  the  evolutionary  re- 
gress, it  is  a  real  difficulty.  Lotze  therefore  con- 
cluded that  "  localisation  in  space  belongs  to  the 
unconscious  product  of  the  soul's  action  through 
the  mechanism  of  its  internal  states."  We  gain  a 
feld  of  vision  from  an  ensemble  of  *  local  signs ' 
and,  as  concerns  tactile  sense,  the  same  thing  hap- 


1 62         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

pens,  the  functions  of  the  corpuscles  of  touch  being 
like  those  of  the  cones  and  rods  of  the  retina  in 
sight.  As  a  result,  our  notion  of  the  extended 
originates  in  a  perception  of  qualitative  differences, 
from  which  the  mind,  by  its  own  power  of  trans- 
formation, constructs  extensive  relations.  Later 
researches  into  the  structure  of  the  peripheral  nerve 
terminations  seem  to  confirm,  rather  than  under- 
mine, the  hypothesis.  That  it  is  a  typical  example 
of  the  limitations  of  hypothesis  Lotze  acknowl- 
edged quite  frankly.  But  he  claimed,  with  justice, 
that  it  explained  the  actual  phenomena  better  than 
any  other  theory.  As  a  consequence,  even  if  modi- 
fied, it  has  been  incorporated  in  '  physiological ' 
psychology,  and,  especially  as  regards  vision  and 
touch,  must  be  reckoned  with  still.  To  sum  up  — 
the  point  is  this :  Lotze  held  that  every  sensation, 
say,  of  colour,  was  accompanied  by  an  "  accessory 
impression  "  of  locality.  The  facts  made  it  neces- 
sary to  assume  this  "  accessory  impression.'* 
Now,  just  because  it  happens  to  be  an  assumption, 
it  lies  open  to  several  interpretations.  In  other 
words,  the  principle  of  the  hypothesis  may  stand, 
but  opinions  as  to  the  way  in  which  it  may  be  read 
can  differ  widely.  However  this  may  be,  more 
than  any  other  psychologist,  Lotze  has  laid  bare 
the  numerous  pitfalls  surrounding  the  explanation 
of  a  psychological  fact  so  obvious  and  common  as 
space  perception. 


PSYCHOLOGY  163 

Nascent  sciences  present  a  certain  family  like- 
ness In  their  llfe-hlstory.  Commonly,  they  begin 
as  special  Inquiries,  somewhat  off  the  traditional 
lines,  In  the  science  which  bears  close  or  closest  af- 
finity to  the  future  discipline.  Such  movements 
continue  lonely  for  a  time,  systematlsation  being 
difficult  or  unattainable  till  many  facts  have  been 
collected.  To  the  point  reached  now,  we  see  this 
stage  predominating  In  '  physiological '  psychol- 
ogy. Physics  and  anatomy,  physiology  and  philo- 
sophy present  special  departures  towards  psy- 
chology, but  a  unification  of  the  last  still  lacks. 
The  final  step  must  be  associated  always  with  the 
names  of  Gustav  Theodor  Fechner  and  Wilhelm 
Wundt  (the  latter  more  emphatically),  who, 
building  on  the  accumulations  of  their  predeces- 
sors, at  length  gave  the  new  science  definite  status. 

Fechner  (1801-87),  like  Lotze,  studied  medi- 
cine at  Leipzig,  where  he  became  professor  of 
physics  In  1834.  Like  Lotze,  too,  he  was  an  ex- 
pert In  philosophy.  Both  were  "  masters  In  the 
use  of  exact  methods,  yet  at  the  same  time  with 
their  whole  souls  devoted  to  the  highest  questions, 
and  superior  to  their  contemporaries  in  breadth  of 
view  as  In  the  importance  and  range  of  their  lead- 
ing Ideas  —  Fechner  a  dreamer  and  sober  inves- 
tigator by  turns,  Lotze  with  a  gentle  hand  recon- 
ciling the  antitheses  in  life  and  science."  In  a 
fashion  Fechner^s  psychology  Is  more  Intimately 


1 64         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

connected  with  his  philosophy  than  Lotze's,  and 
his  phllosophlco-psychologlcal  perspective  offers 
points  of  strong  contrast  to  Wundt's.  Indeed, 
his  definition  of  psycho-physics  —  a  term  original 
with  him  —  hints  as  much.  "I  understand  by 
psycho-physics  an  exact  theory  of  the  relations  of 
soul  and  body,  and,  In  a  general  way,  of  the  physi- 
cal world  and  the  psychical  world."  Undoubt- 
edly, the  psychology  may  be  disengaged  from 
metaphysical  entanglements,  as  Wundt  said  in  his 
address  on  the  occasion  of  the  Fechner  centenary. 
But,  after  all,  Fechner's  panpsychism  forms  a  mo- 
tive force  of  his  psycho-physics,  because,  intellec- 
tually, he  was  a  double  personality.  His  philo- 
sophical theory  teaches  a  universal  parallelism  be- 
tween the  physical  and  the  psychical.  Or,  as 
Nageli,  the  botanist,  has  It: 

*'  Sensation  Is  clearly  connected  with  the  reflex 
actions  of  higher  animals.  We  are  obliged  to  con- 
cede It  to  the  other  animals  also,  and  we  have  no 
grounds  for  denying  it  to  plants  and  inorganic 
bodies.  The  sensation  arouses  in  us  a  condition 
of  comfort  and  discomfort.  In  general,  the  feel- 
ing of  pleasure  arises  when  the  natural  impulses 
are  satisfied,  the  feeling  of  pain,  when  they  are 
not  satisfied.  Since  all  material  processes  are 
composed  of  movements  of  molecules  and  ele- 
mentary atoms,  pleasure  or  pain  must  have  Its 
seat  in  these  particles.     Sensation  is  a  property  of 


PSYCHOLOGY  165 

the  albuminous  molecules;  and  if  it  belongs  to 
these,  we  are  obliged  to  concede  it  to  the  other 
substances  also.  If  the  molecules  possess  any- 
thing even  remotely  akin  to  sensation,  they  must 
have  a  feeling  of  comfort  when  they  can  obey  the 
law  of  attraction  or  repulsion,  the  law  of  their 
own  inclination  or  aversion;  a  feeling  of  discom- 
fort, however,  when  they  are  compelled  to  make 
contrary  movements.  Thus  the  same  thread  runs 
through  all  material  phenomena.  The  human 
mind  is  nothing  but  the  highest  development  on 
our  earth  of  the  mental  processes  which  universally 
animate  and  move  nature." 

Fechner  had  worked  out  this  fundamental  the- 
ory ere  he  arrived  at  his  psychological  results. 
We  find  glimmerings  of  it  so  soon  as  1835,  in  the 
attractive  Little  Book  on  Life  After  Death,  in  the 
tract  On  the  Highest  Good  (1846);  enlarged 
views  in  Nanna,  or  the  Soul-life  of  Plants  (1848)  ; 
while  the  system  appears  full-fledged  in  Zend- 
Avesta,  or  the  Things  of  Heaven  and  the  Here- 
after (i85i);ini86ihe  returned  to  it  in  his  book, 
On  the  Soul  Question,  occasioned  by  contemporary 
materialism,  and  in  The  Three  Motives  and 
Grounds  of  Belief;  in  1879  ^^  reaffirmed  and  re- 
stated the  position  in  the  remarkable  volume  en- 
titled. The  Day  View  and  the  Night  View.  The 
essence  of  his  teaching  may  be  summed  up  in  the 
thought  that  the  material  or  external  world  is  a 


1 66         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

half-truth,   a   concession   to   the   sensuous,    rather 
than  an  explanation  of  the  psychical. 

"  However  complicated  our  brains  may  be,  and 
however  much  we  may  feel  inclined  to  attach  to 
such  a  complexity  the  highest  mental  properties, 
the  world  is  unspeakably  more  complex,  since  it  is 
a  compHcation  of  all  the  compHcations  contained 
in  it,  the  brains  among  them.  Why  not,  there- 
fore, attach  still  higher  mental  properties  to  this 
greater  complexity?  The  form  and  structure  of 
the  heavens  seem  simple  only  when  we  consider 
the  large  masses  and  not  their  details  and  con- 
catenation. The  heavenly  bodies  are  not  crude 
homogeneous  lumps;  and  the  most  diverse  and 
complicated  relations  of  light  and  gravity  obtain 
between  them.  That,  however,  the  plurality  in 
the  world  is  also  grouped,  comprehended,  and  or- 
ganised into  unity  does  not  contradict  the  thought 
that  it  is  also  comprehended  into  a  corresponding 
mental  unity,  but  Is  In  harmony  with  the  same." 

Consequently,  the  physical  symbolises  the  psy- 
chical. They  are  two  faces  of  a  single  existence. 
Human  research  may,  therefore,  deal  with  the  one 
or  the  other,  and  attain,  as  it  has  attained,  great 
success.  But  the  real  problem  centres  in  the  rela- 
tion between  the  two.  Of  this,  '  physiological ' 
psychology  is  the  science.  Accordingly,  you  can 
pursue  it  qua  science,  but  you  must  never  forget 
the  larger  setting  whence  it  cannot  be  riven. 


PSYCHOLOGY  167 

Proceeding  to  the  psychology,  then,  note  at  once 
that  Fechner  envisages  the  problem  rather  as  a 
physicist  than  as  a  physiologist.  So,  while  he  suf- 
fers from  limitations,  he  gains  In  precision.  Soul 
and  body  being  a  single  existence,  It  Is  practicable 
to  Investigate  their  mutual  functioning  and  to  state 
the  results  as  laws  of  nature,  which.  In  turn,  are 
no  more  than  assemblages  of  observations  con- 
cerning phenomenal  existence.  Of  course,  a  de- 
veloped psychology  would  endeavour  to  extend  this 
plan  to  the  entire  range  of  consciousness.  Fech- 
ner, however,  confines  himself  to  a  single  funda- 
mental point  —  the  relation  between  stimulus  and 
sensation  as  generalised  In  Weber's  law;  although, 
just  as  Lotze  before  him,  he  considers  other  ques- 
tions in  a  most  suggestive  manner,  notably,  the 
seat  of  the  soul,  sleep  and  reminiscence.  Pursuant 
to  his  early  conviction,  that  soul  and  body  are  but 
opposite  sides  of  an  Identical  existence  (conscious), 
he  took  it  for  granted  that  their  reciprocal  action 
would  be  proportional.  But  this  was  anticipation, 
not  science.  Weber's  work  led  Fechner  to  test 
the  hypothesis,  that  the  increase  of  physlglogical 
excitation  holds  the  key  to  psychological  changes. 
And  his  interest  was  stimulated  by  the  fact  that, 
if  this  could  be  proven  accurately,  his  philosophy 
would  benefit  by  so  much  Indubitable  evidence. 
Consequently,  he  was  moved  to  verify  Weber's 
Law  by  numerous  experiments,  physical,  for  the 


1 68         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

most  part.  Sensations  of  pressure  and  muscular 
effort,  detected  by  use  of  weights;  sensations  of 
temperature,  determined  by  cold  and  hot  water; 
sensations  of  light,  detected  by  the  photometer; 
and  sensations  of  sound,  observed  by  reference  to 
falling  bodies,  all  tended  to  confirm  the  same  gen- 
eral relation  between  stimulus  and  the  psycho- 
logical event.  Given  what  Herbart  called  a 
"  threshold  of  sensation,"  and  having  fixed  this  as 
a  constant  for  each  class  of  sensation,  Fechner 
found  it  possible  to  infer,  by  strict  induction,  that 
the  intensity  of  the  sensation  is  equal  to  the  pro- 
portion of  the  stimulus,  multiplied  by  the  logarithm 
of  the  excitation,  divided  by  the  threshold  of  stim- 
ulus. In  other  words,  we  can  obtain  a  formula 
for  the  quantitative  relation  of  physical  and  psy- 
chological events  considered  as  magnitudes.  This 
formula,  which  provides  a  means  of  measurement, 
declares  that  the  sensations  Increase  proportionally 
to  the  logarithm  of  the  stimulus.  As  a  law,  Fech- 
ner affirms  dogmatically  that  it  applies  for  In- 
ternal (psychological)  states  and,  within  limits, 
reasons  for  which  can  be  given,  for  external 
(physiological  or  physical)  conditions.  The  re- 
sult was  obtained  by  three  methods.  ( i )  The 
Method  of  Differences  which  are  Just  Observable. 
This  means  that  the  operator  finds,  first,  the  least 
greater  or  the  least  smaller  stimulus  which  can  just 
be  sensed  as  different  by  the  subject;  and  then  pro- 


PSYCHOLOGY  169 

ceeds  to  add  Increments  to  this,  or,  Inversely  to 
subtract  Increments  from  It,  till  the  Intensity  or 
diminution  come  Into  clear  recognition.  Divide 
the  sum  of  the  initial  and  the  altered  stimulus  and 
you  arrive  at  the  differential  of  sensibility.  (2) 
The  Method  of  True  (Right)  and  False 
(Wrong)  Cases.  Here  the  operator  applies  two 
stimuli,  which  differ  slightly,  to  the  subject,  and 
inquires  whether  the  first  Is  greater  or  smaller 
than  the  second.  The  replies  are  recorded;  the 
ratio  of  true  judgments  to  the  total  number  of 
judgments  gives  the  measure  of  sensibility,  and 
varies  directly  with  it.  (3)  The  Method  of 
Mean  Errors  —  or  of  Probability  of  Error. 
Given  a  stimulus,  the  subject  is  asked  to  add  an- 
other just  equal  to  the  datum.  He  deviates  more 
or  less;  the  probable  error  of  the  adjustment,  in 
its  deviation  from  the  known  mean,  affords  the 
direct  measure  of  sensibility.  The  last,  so  far  as 
an  amateur  can  judge,  would  seem  to  be  the  most 
important,  because  the  most  accurate  procedure. 
As  has  been  said,  the  resultant  generalisation  holds 
within  limits,  upper  and  lower.  But  this  is  just 
what  one  anticipates  In  any  law  of  nature.  And 
there  Is  another,  much  more  pertinent,  question. 
Does  the  law  apply  to  the  relation  between  sensa- 
tion and  neurosis,  or  merely  to  that  between  neu- 
rosis and  excitation?  If  the  former,  it  is  psycho- 
physiological ;  if  the  latter,  it  is  no  more  than  phys- 


1 70         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

iological  or,  strictly,  physical.  Now  this  raises 
precisely  the  fundamental  problem :  Are  sensations 
measurable?  And  this,  in  turn,  seems  to  me  to 
depend  upon  the  possibility  of  differentiating  be- 
tween sensation  and  perception  (the  manner  in 
which  we  experience  sensation).  So  far  as  I 
catch  the  present  drift,  the  central  difficulty  re- 
mains sub  judice.  On  the  other  hand,  if  one  be 
prepared  to  accept  the  theory  called  *  organi- 
cism,' —  the  analogue  on  the  metaphysical  side  of 
activism  on  the  ethical, —  which  declares  that  our 
whole  experience  can  only  be  interpreted  as  a  sin- 
gle vast  organism,  in  which  every  part  bears  a  re- 
lation at  once  of  means  and  end  to  every  other,  it 
follows  plainly,  in  my  judgment,  that,  if  not  Fech- 
ner's  law,  then  some  law  (possibly  not  yet  known, 
but  operative  nevertheless)  must  be  present* 
and,  further,  that  this  law,  in  certain  of  its 
manifestations,  is  capable  of  discovery  and 
verification  by  psycho-physiological  methods. 
You  see  we  must  not  demand  finality  from 
a  new  science  in  the  first  generation  of  its 
formal  career.  At  this  point  pitiful  errors 
have  beguiled  both  critics  and  advocates.  The 
critic  who  insists  that  '  physiological '  psychology 
has  nothing  to  tell  is  in  far  too  big  a .  hurry  to 
judge ;  and  the  advocate  who  urges  that  '  physi- 
ological '  psychology  can  tell  everything  forth- 
with deposes  his  own  subject  from  its  possible  place 


PSYCHOLOGY  171 

as  a  positive  science.  It  Is  fair  to  add,  as  opposed 
to  my  own  view,  that  the  great  American  psy- 
chologist, William  James,  states  ( i )  that  "  Fech- 
ner's  originality  consists  exclusively  in  the  theoretic 
interpretation  of  Weber's  law";  (2)  that  ''the 
entire  superstructure  which  Fechner  rears  upon 
the  facts  is  not  only  seen  to  be  arbitrary  and  sub- 
jective, but  In  the  highest  degree  improbable  as 
well";  and  (3)  that  "Weber's  law  is  probably 
purely  physical."  And  he  concludes,  "  the  only 
amusing  part  of  it  is  that  Fechner's  critics  should 
always  feel  bound,  after  smiting  his  theories  hip 
and  thigh  and  leaving  not  a  stick  of  them  stand- 
ing, to  wind  up  by  saying  that  nevertheless  to  him 
belongs  the  imperishable  glory  of  first  formulat- 
ing them  and  thereby  turning  psychology  Into  an 
exact  science  ( !)  : 

"  And   everybody  praised   the  duke 

Who  this  great  fight  did  win." 
"  '  But  what  good  came  of  It  at  last?  * 

Quoth  little  Peterkin. 
*  Why,  that  I  can  not  tell,'  said  he, 
'  But  *twas  a  famous  victory.^ " 

This  Irony  need  not  be  taken  with  too  many 
grimaces.  For  It  merely  means  that  *  physiolog- 
ical '  psychology  remains  in  the  '  natural  history  * 
stage  —  it  is  still  absorbed  mainly  in  the  assem- 
blage of  facts.     And  no  one  would  oppose  it  were 


172         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

it  not  that  some  foolish  partisans,  after  their  kind 
in  all  ages,  go  about  to  magnify  their  office.  That 
psychology  can  never  hope  to  be  as  '  exact '  as 
physics,  or  even,  mayhap,  physiology,  seems  prob- 
able. Yet  one  attaches  little,  if  any,  weight  to 
the  remark.  For,  as  physiology  ceases  to  be  phys- 
iology when  It  assimilates  itself  to  physics  or  to 
chemistry,  so  psychology  ceases  to  be  psychology 
when  It  attempts  to  become  physiology,  just  as 
sociology,  masquerading  in  the  guise  of  psychol- 
ogy, is  no  science,  but  simply  a  homeless  bastard. 
Sceptical  as  the  conclusion  may  seem,  Fechner, 
nevertheless,  needs  no  justification,  as  his  work 
for  aesthetics  proves  abundantly.  For,  in  psy- 
chology, as  in  every  science,  the  investigator  as- 
sumes the  Intelligibility  of  nature ;  and  then,  by  an 
attack  In  detail,  attempts  to  show  that  natural  in- 
ter-relations are  as  his  conceptual  conclusions  an- 
ticipated they  would  be.  And  from  this  process 
no  sphere  of  experience  can  be  held  exempt. 
Doubtless,  the  application  Is  more  difficult  in  psy- 
chology, because  there  abstraction  from  either 
body  or  mind  leads  to  positive  error.  But,  here, 
again,  we  are  only  saying  that,  despite  all  Its  lab- 
oratories and  apparatus,  psychology  remains  that 
new  revelation  —  a  philosophical  science.  And 
to  my  mind  Its  first-rate  Importance  grounds  in 
this  very  fact. 


PSYCHOLOGY  173 

VI. 

Now  that  Herbert  Spencer  and  Eduard  von 
Hartmann  have  passed  away,  Wundt  stands  alone 
among  living  thinkers  of  his  generation.  The  Im- 
portance of  his  philosophical  contribution  ranks 
second  only  to  his  epoch-making  career  In  psy- 
chology. Space  forbids  more  than  this  reference 
to  It;  but  I  may  add  that,  very  likely,  his  philo- 
sophical attitude  possesses  a  future.  For  he  heads 
a  movement  which  portends  that  a  main  business 
of  philosophy  in  present  circumstances  is  to  unify 
and  systematise  the  manifold  results  garnered 
piecemeal  by  the  positive  sciences. 

Born  In  1832,  Wundt  began  his  academic  career 
as  a  medical  student  at  Heidelberg  In  1851,  and 
continued  the  same  studies  later  at  Tubingen  and 
Berlin,  where  he  resided  at  the  close  of  Johannes 
Miiller's  professorship.  In  1856  he  worked  for 
a  year  in  the  physiological  laboratory  at  Heidel- 
berg under  Helmholtz.  On  the  scientific  side  he 
came  under  the  influence  of  Miiller,  Fr.  Arnold 
(In  anatomy),  Hasse  (In  pathology),  E.  H.  and 
W.  Weber,  Helmholtz,  Lotze,  Bain  and  Fechner. 
Early  in  life  he  also  made  acquaintance  with  the 
philosophical  work  of  Leibniz,  Kant,  Herbart  and 
Lotze.  As  stated  above,  he  records  that.  In  psy- 
chology, he  owes  the  largest  debt  to  Kant  and 


174         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Herbart;  this  explains  not  a  few  of  his  later  posi- 
tions, especially  those  to  which  younger  men,  of 
purely  experimental  training,  have  taken  excep- 
tion, without  due  appreciation  sometimes,  I  fear, 
of  what  exactly  they  opposed.  His  life-work  as  a 
teacher  and  investigator  has  lain  at  Zurich,  and 
Leipzig,  whither  he  was  called  In  1876,  and 
where,  in  1879,  he  opened  the  first  purely  psy- 
chological laboratory,  an  example  followed  since 
by  many  of  the  great  universities  in  civilised  lands. 
Unlike  his  predecessors,  especially  Weber,  Helm- 
holtz,  Lotze  and  Fechner,  he  has  not  concentrated 
his  attention  upon  this  or  that  restricted  group  of 
psycho-physiological  phenomena,  but  has  ranged 
over  the  entire  field,  with  the  result  that  psychol- 
ogy owes  to  him  at  once  its  present  systematic  form 
and  its  definite  place  In  the  fellowship  of  the  spe- 
cial sciences.  For  these  reasons,  his  Influence  and 
methods  have  penetrated  everywhere. 

A  bare  list  of  his  principal  works  suflSces  to  ex- 
hibit the  range  and  force  of  his  tireless  activity: 
Beitrdge  zur  Lehre  von  den  Muskelbewegungen, 
1858;  Beitrdge  zur  Theorie  der  Sinneswahrneh- 
miing,  1859-62;  Vorlesungen  iiher  die  Menschen- 
und  Thiers eele,  1863,  5th  ed.,  191 1  (Eng.. trans.)  ; 
Grundziige  der  physiologischen  Psychologie, 
1874,  6th  ed.,  1911  (Eng.  trans.);  Ueber  die 
Aufgahen  der  Philosophie  in  der  Gegenwart, 
1874;  Ueber  den  Einfluss  der  Philosophie  auf  die 


PSYCHOLOGY  175 

Erfahrungswissenschaften,  1876;  Logik,  1906- 
08;  Ethik,  1886,  4th  ed.,  19 12  (Eng.  trans.); 
System  der  Philosophie,  1907;  Grundriss  der  Psy- 
chologic, 1898  (Eng.  trans.)  ;  Volkerpsychologie, 
1904-09;  and  many  contributions  of  first-rate  im- 
portance to  Philosophische  Studien,  the  organ  of 
his  laboratory  and  philosophical  circle,  since  188 1, 
the  first  year  of  its  publication.  When  we  remem- 
ber that  four  of  these  books  are  masterpieces,  and 
that  one  of  them  is  the  classic  in  its  subject,  some 
idea  of  Wundt's  importance  emerges. 

Seizing  the  opportunity  incident  to  his  historical 
position,  Wundt  aimed  to  deliver  psychology  from 
an  old  reproach  —  it  was  merely  another  instance 
of  more  or  less  loose  descriptive  classification. 
He  proposed  to  lift  it  to  the  level  of  scientific  ex- 
planation.    By  what  means? 

"  It  is  experiment  that  has  been  the  source  of 
the  decided  advance  in  natural  science,  and  brought 
about  such  revolutions  in  our  scientific  views.  Let 
us  now  apply  experiment  to  the  science  of  mind. 
We  must  remember  that  in  every  department  of 
investigation  the  experimental  method  takes  on  a 
special  form,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  facts 
investigated.  We  cannot  experiment  upon  mind 
itself,  but  only  upon  its  outworks,  the  organs  of 
sense  and  movement  which  are  functionally  re- 
lated to  mental  processes.  So  that  every  psy- 
chological experiment  is  at  the  same  time  physi- 


176         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

ologlcal,  just  as  there  are  physical  sciences  cor- 
responding to  the  mental  processes  of  sensation, 
Idea  and  will.  This,  of  course,  is  no  reason  for 
denying  to  experiment  the  character  of  a  psycho- 
logical method.  It  Is  simply  due  to  the  general 
conditions  of  our  mental  life,  one  aspect  of  which 
is  its  constant  connection  with  the  body." 

Or,  again :  — 

''  Psychology  Is  compelled  to  make  use  of  ob- 
jective changes  in  order,  by  means  of  the  influ- 
ence which  they  exert  on  our  consciousness,  to  es- 
tablish the  subjective  properties  and  laws  of  that 
consciousness." 

Or,  once  more :  — 

"  Physiological  psychology  is,  therefore,  first  of 
all  psychology.  It  has  in  view  the  same  principal 
object  upon  which  all  other  forms  of  psychological 
investigation  are  directed:  the  investigation  of 
conscious  processes  in  the  modes  of  connection  pe- 
culiar to  them.  It  is  not  a  province  of  physiology; 
nor  does  it  attempt,  as  has  been  mistakenly  as- 
serted, to  derive  or  explain  the  phenomena  of  the 
psychical  from  those  of  the  physical  life.  We 
may  read  this  meaning  into  the  phrase  '  physi- 
ological psychology,'  just  as  we  might  interpret 
'  microscopical  anatomy  '  to  mean  a  >  discussion, 
with  illustrations  from  anatomy,  of  what  has  been 
accomplished  by  the  microscope;  but  the  words 
should  be  no  more  misleading  in  the  one  case  than 


PSYCHOLOGY  177 

they  are  in  the  other.  As  employed  in  the  present 
work,  the  adjective  '  physiological  '  implies  simply 
that  our  psychology  will  avail  itself  to  the  full  of 
the  means  that  modern  physiology  puts  at  its  dis- 
posal for  the  analysis  of  conscious  processes." 

But,  had  he  gone  no  farther  than  this,  Wundt 
would  scarcely  be  exempt  from  the  condemnation 
of  his  predecessors,  or  from  that  under  which  some 
of  his  scholars  have  fallen.  For,  plainly,  it  could 
be  objected  that  he  had  omitted  the  two  most  re- 
markable features  of  consciousness, —  its  intensive 
or  individual  centralisation,  and  its  extensive  de- 
velopment in  society.  These  aspects  of  the  mat- 
ter tend  to  get  beyond  psychological  management, 
as  they  assuredly  raise  ultimate  philosophical 
problems.  Wundt's  high  distinction  is  attribut- 
able mainly  to  his  recognition  of  and  attack  upon 
these  difficulties.  So,  his  psychology  offers  a  sec- 
ond, and  broader,  side,  set  forth,  for  example,  in 
his  excursus  entitled  Philosophie  und  Wissenschaft 
(Essays,  1881),  and  present  as  a  constructive, 
possibly  a  disturbing,  element,  in  his  whole  out- 
look upon  the  psychological  field.  For  instance, 
in  his  System,  the  theory  of  the  "  growth  of 
mental  values  "  bears  directly  upon  thes6  ques- 
tions. "  Mental  life  is,  extensively  and  Inten- 
sively, governed  by  a  law  of  growth  of  values: 
extensively,  inasmuch  as  the  multiplicity  of  mental 
developments  is  always  on  the  increase ;  Intensively, 


178         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

inasmuch  as  the  values  which  appear  in  these  de- 
velopments Increase  in  degree."  And,  on  the 
strictly  psychological  side,  he  takes  note  of  the 
same  things  as  follows :  — 

"  We  may  add  that,  fortunately  for  the  science, 
there  are  other  sources  of  objective  psychological 
knowledge,  which  become  accessible  at  the  very 
point  where  the  experimental  method  fails  us. 
These  are  certain  products  of  the  common  mental 
life,  in  which  we  may  trace  the  operation  of  de- 
terminate psychical  motives;  chief  among  them 
are  language,  myth  and  custom.  In  part  deter- 
mined by  historical  conditions,  they  are  also,  in 
part,  dependent  upon  universal  psychological  laws; 
and  the  phenomena  that  are  referable  to  these  laws 
form  the  subject-matter  of  a  special  psychological 
discipline,  ethnic  psychology.  The  results  of  eth- 
nic psychology  constitute,  at  the  same  time,  our 
chief  source  of  Information  regarding  the  general 
psychology  of  the  complex  mental  processes.  In 
this  way,  experimental  psychology  and  ethnic  psy- 
chology form  the  two  principal  departments  of 
scientific  psychology  at  large.  They  are  supple- 
mented by  child  and  animal  psychology,  which,  in 
conjunction  with  ethnic  psychology,  attempt  to  re- 
solve the  problems  of  psychogenesis Fi- 
nally, child  psychology  and  experimental  psychol- 
ogy in  the  narrower  sense  may  be  bracketed  to- 
gether   as    individual    psychology,    while    animal 


PSYCHOLOGY  179 

psychology  and  ethnic  psychology  form  the  two 
halves  of  a  generic  or  comparative  psychology." 

So  far  the  extensive  development.  On  the  side 
of  intensive  centralisation  Wundt's  doctrine  of 
"  apperception  "  provides  the  necessary  hypothesis. 
At  these  aspects  of  the  subject  I  can  only  hint  here. 

Turning  at  once  to  the  Physiological  Psychol- 
ogy, we  find  that  it  proceeds,  as  scientific  method 
dictates,  from  the  simple  to  the  complex.  After 
an  introduction.  Part  I.  discusses  the  bodily  Sub- 
strate of  the  Mental  Life;  Part  IL  the  Elements 
of  the  Mental  Life;  Part  IIL  the  Formation  of 
Sensory  Ideas;  Part  IV.  the  Aiifective  Process  and 
Volitional  Action;  Part  V.  the  Course  and  the 
Connection  of  Mental  Processes;  Part  VI.  adds 
Final  Considerations.  Thus,  we  pass  from  the 
functions  of  the  nervous  system,  by  way  of  sensa- 
tion, feeling  and  presentation,  to  consciousness  in 
the  formation  of  ideas  and  in  the  train  of  ideas, 
which,  in  turn.  Involves  attention,  apperception, 
and  will,  not  omitting  phenomena  such  as  associa- 
tion, imagination  and  emotion.  Two  reasons 
make  it  hard  to  select  this  or  that,  and  to  say. 
Here  Wundt  excels.  First,  profuse  wealth  of  sug- 
gestion and  result  Is  scattered  everywhere.  Sec- 
ond, the  successive  editions  of  the  Physiolog- 
ical Psychology  constitute  the  life-story  of  Wundt's 
own  mind  In  relation  to  the  subject  as  a 
whole;  and  only  psychologists  von  Fach  can  sup- 


i8o         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

ply  the  necessary  light  and  shade.  It  appears  to 
me  that  special  interest  attaches  to  his  discussion 
of  Miiller's  theory  of  specific  energies,  because  it 
reveals  Wundt's  view  of  the  part  played  by  the 
nervous  system  in  the  psychological  organisation; 
to  his  criticism  of  the  Young-Helmholtz  theory  of 
colour,  because  it  attacks  the  '  mystery '  of  space- 
perception;  to  the  treatment  of  sensation,  the  dura- 
tion of  mental  processes,  and  association,  because 
they  afford  typical  instances  of  the  new  data  which 
experimental  psychology  can  bestow  upon  analyses 
of  psychical  phenomena.  Doubtless,  professed 
psychologists  would  Insist  upon  other  points.  For 
my  part,  the  central  interest  still  attaches  to 
Wundt's  theory  of  apperception  and  will.  I  take 
the  former  as  a  typical  illustration  of  the  direction 
in  which  '  physiological '  psychology  moves. 

In  apperception  the  conscious  being  brings  his 
entire  unity  of  experience  to  bear  on  the  object 
within  the  field  of  his  attention.  We  light  upon 
an  inner  and  elaborative  activity  which  "  bears 
the  stamp  of  spontaneity."  Evidently,  a  process 
complex  in  the  highest  degree!  My  colleague, 
Professor  Pillsbury,  has  analysed  it  as  follows: 
Apperception  Involves  four  elements:  ^'(  i)  In- 
crease of  clearness  in  the  idea  directly  before  the 
mind,  accompanied  by  the  immediate  feeling  of 
activity;  (2)  inhibition  of  other  ideas;  (3)  mus- 
cular strain  sensations,  with  the  feelings  connected 


'J 


PSYCHOLOGY  i8i 

with  them,  intensifying  the  primary  feeling  of  ac- 
tivity; (4)  the  reflex  effect  of  these  strain  sensa- 
tions, intensifying  the  idea  apperceived."  De- 
spite this  complexity,  the  apperceptive  theory 
posits  fundamentally  an  inexpugnable  "  original 
activity,"  or  "  psychical  energy,"  which  arises 
from  within  consciousness  and  transforms,  as  by  a 
synthesis,  what,  for  convenience'  sake,  may  be 
termed  simple  factors.  Physiological  stimulus 
pales,  and  subjective  transitiveness  becomes  deter- 
mining. This  activity  has  close  connection  with 
will,  often  with  choice.  How  can  it  be  explained? 
For  Wundt,  the  term  consciousness  possesses  a 
special  and  restricted  meaning.  It  consists  of  all 
contents,  such  as  feelings,  ideas,  excitations  of  the 
will,  and  —  there  is  no  underlying  substance  or 
occult  being.  This  represents  the  analytic  aspect; 
the  synthetic  remains  to  be  reckoned  with.  Now, 
the  spontaneous  activity  of  the  mind  itself,  whereby 
presentations  come  to  be  distinguished  clearly,  ap- 
pears as  appercipient  attention,  when  brought  to 
play  upon  perceptions  or  upon  the  **  stream  of  con- 
sciousness," and  as  volition,  when  it  originates 
movements  of  the  body.  Obviously,  the  former 
is  the  more  fundamental,  because,  in  it,  I  connect 
my  ideas  with  my  will.  It  "  depends,  on  the  one 
hand,  upon  the  stimuli  then  at  work;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  upon  the  total  state  of  consciousness, 
how  it  is  made  up,  that  is,  by  present  impressions 


1 82         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

and  prior  experiences.  ...  If  we  would  describe 
more  nearly  what  it  is  that  we  experience  in  our- 
selves when  pleased  or  pained  we  cannot  do  this 
more  concretely  than  by  denoting  pleasure  as  a 
straining  after,  and  pain  as  a  straining  against, 
an  object."  We  may  say,  then,  that  apperception 
means  will  brought  to  bear  upon  states  of  con- 
sciousness and  then  directed  to  external  muscular 
acts.  For,  "  there  is  absolutely  nothing  outside 
man  or  in  him  which  we  can  call  wholly  or  entirely 
his  own  except  his  will."  So  Wundt  finds  the  ex- 
istence of  a  synthetic  activity  of  consciousness  be- 
yond the  range  of  mere  association.  Without  go- 
ing far  wrong,  we  might  term  this  the  single  faculty 
into  which  all  the  faculties  of  the  old  psychology 
are  absorbed.  For  it  compares  and  selects  among 
conscious  states;  or  peradventure,  it  can  be  de- 
scribed as  a  species  of  conscious  striving.  Here, 
then,  the  mental  unity  presents  its  distinctive  na- 
ture, and,  as  some  have  indeed  supposed,  might 
be  held  exempt  from  the  persistent  assault  of  psy- 
cho-physiological method,  secluding  itself  within 
its  unattainable  citadel.  But  this  is  a  complete 
mistake;  and  one  should  call  attention  to  Wundt's 
modern  position  even  here,  the  more  that  he  has 
been  misunderstood,  strangely  enough,  by  those 
who  ought  to  know  better.  Apperception,  or  what 
you  please,  happens  to  be  a  fact  of  mental  life. 
Accordingly,  it  must  submit  to  experimental  treat- 


PSYCHOLOGY  183 

ment.  A  process  exists,  therefore  analysis  Is  ap- 
plicable. And,  especially  when  the  problem  of 
duration  arises,  as  It  does,  a  cumulative  series  of 
experiments  Is  In  strict  order. 

What  happens  when  apperception  occurs? 
Generally,  of  course,  a  transformation  of  sensory 
Into  motor  activity.  In  detail,  according  to 
Wundt,  a  train  of  processes  has  supervened,  viz.: 
(i)  Transmission  from  the  sense-organ  to  the 
brain;  (2)  entrance  Into  the  "  field  of  view,"  that 
Is,  existence  of  simple  perception;  (3)  entrance 
into  the  "  point  of  view,"  when  perception  becomes 
discernment;  (4)  activity  of  will,  with  Innervation 
of  the  central  organism  through  the  motor-nerves, 
and  (5)  the  resultant  excitation  of  the  muscles. 
Plainly,  the  crux  hides  in  (3),  which  Is  purely 
psychological,  while  the  others  have  a  clear 
physiological  reference.  Nevertheless,  (3)  hap- 
pens to  be  so  surrounded  by  physiological  phe- 
nomena that  It  is  open  to  observation  and  experi- 
ment and  these  methods  have  been  concentrated 
upon  a  research  Into  the  cerebral  changes  which 
accompany  perception,  apperception  and  will,  re- 
spectively. These  experiments,  although  elabo- 
rate, and  becoming  more  elaborate,  may  be  classed 
under  three  heads,  (i)  The  Investigation  of 
simple  physiological  time,  that  Is,  when  the  subject 
Is  aware  of  the  coming  impression,  but  Is  ignorant 
just  when  It  will  take  place.      (2)  Those  in  which 


1 84         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

even  this  element  of  Ignorance  is  eliminated. 
(3)  Those  in  which  wide  modifications  are  pos- 
sible, because,  for  example,  the  subject  does  not 
know  what  the  Impression  will  be,  or  is  unaware  of 
the  character  of  the  stimulus  In  such  a  way  that  he 
does  not  know  how  precisely  he  will  be  called  upon 
to  register  it.  In  sum,  these  experiments  show, 
as  Wundt  infers,  that  the  exact  moment  of  apper- 
clplence  is  dependent  upon  the  self-accommoda- 
tion of  the  subject,  particularly  in  the  matter  of  at- 
tention. Take  the  third  case.  "  An  indicator  is 
kept  moving  at  a  uniform  rate  over  a  graduated 
scale,  and  so  situated  that  the  place  of  the  needle 
can  be  clearly  seen  at  each  Instant  of  time.  The 
action  of  the  same  clock  which  moves  the  needle 
causes  a  sound  at  any  moment,  but  in  such  a  way 
that  the  subject  of  the  experiment  does  not  know 
when  to  expect  it.  With  what  position  of  the 
needle,  now,  will  the  sensation  of  sound  be  com- 
bined? Will  the  sound  be  heard  exactly  when  it 
occurs,  as  indicated  by  the  needle ;  or  later  than  its 
real  time  ('positive'  lengthening);  or  earlier 
than  its  real  time  ('negative'  lengthening)? 
The  result  shows  that  one  rarely  hears  the  sound 
without  either  positive  or  negative  displacement  of 
it ;  but  most  frequently  the  lengthening  is  negative 
—  that  is,  one  believes  one  hears  the  sound  before' 
it  really  occurs  as  measured  by  the  indicator." 
In  this  connection,  then,  the  fundamental  prob- 


PSYCHOLOGY  185 

lem  of  '  physiological '  psychology  is,  "  to  deter- 
mine the  simple  reaction-time,  and  from  it  to  find 
the  factors  of  psycho-physical  time  —  namely,  per- 
ception-time, apperception-time  (or  discernment- 
time),  and  will-time." 

Along  this  line  laboratory  investigation  has  been 
able  to  show  that,  as  a  matter  of  record,  the  will 
does  occasion  changes  in  the  central  physiological 
mechanism,  and  that  these  changes  possess  quanti- 
tative differences  having  more  or  less  definite  rela- 
tion to  psychical  activity.  By  this  I  understand 
that  the  latent  energy  of  the  nerve-cells  is  sum- 
moned to  activity,  and  that,  as  a  result,  the  brain 
labours  hard.  In  our  own  laboratory  I  have  seen 
the  subject  of  an  attention  experiment  pour  with 
perspiration,  although  physically  he  was,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, quite  quiescent.  No  better  proof  of  in- 
tense cerebral  work  could  be  desired.  And  ex- 
periment simply  attempts  to  relate  this  energising 
to  the  concomitant  psychological  states. 

But  Wundt  has  committed  himself  to  the  mod- 
ern attitude  even  further.  In  the  first  and  sec- 
ond editions  of  his  Physiological  Psychology,  he 
suggested  that  the  frontal  regions  of  the  brain  are 
related  to  apperception  as  the  "  bearers  of  the 
physiological  processes  which  accompany  the  ap- 
perception of  the  presentations  of  sense."  In 
other  words,  all  stages  of  the  apperceptive  process 
are  accompanied  by  definite  physiological  activity. 


1 86         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Beyond  the  circumstance  that  this  assigns  a  func- 
tion to  the  frontal  regions  which,  otherwise,  stand 
out  of  distinct  relation  to  the  factors  of  conscious- 
ness, it  must  be  regarded  as  a  speculation. 
Wundt  himself,  although  he  does  not  dismiss  the 
hypothesis,  tends  to  minimise  it  from  his  third 
edition.  Yet  it  serves  to  show  how  persistently 
he  clings  to  the  true  psycho-physiological  method 
even  in  regard  to  the  most  recondite  operation  of 
the  mind. 

It  remains  to  note  that  the  influence  of  mind 
over  body  demands  study  as  much  as  the  converse. 
If  apperception  be  a  legitimate  supposition  —  and 
it  would  seem  to  be  a  hypothesis  which  at  least  ac- 
counts for  unquestioned  facts, —  then  it  follows 
that  we  must  estimate  it,  not  by  external  stimulus, 
but  in  terms  of  internal  activity.  And  this,  of 
course,  reminds  us  that  psycho-physiological  in- 
vestigation has  proved  the  existence  of  an  influ- 
ential voluntaristic  element.  No  doubt,  to  this 
point,  the  former  has  claimed,  and  still  claims,  the 
lion's  share  of  experimental  work.  So  that,  in 
many  ways,  the  internal  problem  awaits  concen- 
trated attack.  That  is  to  say,  physical  and  phys- 
iological problems,  being  so  much  more  readily 
amenable  to  the  new  methods,  have  tended  to 
crowd  out  the  distinctively  psychological  material. 
Nevertheless,  we  have  arrived  at  something  analo- 
gous to  a  causal  influence  of  the  central  nervous 


PSYCHOLOGY  187 

system,  upon  what  I  shall  call  ideation.  This  was 
the  indispensable  initial  step.  But  yet,  this 
causality  is  necessarily  in  consciousness,  and,  in  so 
far  forth,  is  not  causal  at  all.  For,  of  nervous 
states  as  such  we  do  not  know  anything,  and  never 
can  know  anything.  Accordingly,  the  other  side 
proffers  its  claim,  which,  in  the  light  of  this  agnos- 
ticism, is  far  more  modest.  This  point  was  ad- 
mirably taken  by  Professor  Cattell,  in  his  vice- 
presidential  address  to  the  Anthropological  Section 
of  the  American  Association  for  the  Advancement 
of  Science,  in  1888.  "  Much  is  being  written  just 
now  regarding  the  relation  of  consciousness  to  the 
brain.  The  question  is :  Do  perceptions,  thoughts, 
feelings,  volitions,  stand  in  causal  interaction  with 
the  brain,  or  are  they  an  epiphenomenon,  accom- 
panying changes  in  the  brain  but  not  influencing 
them?  Are  our  ordinary  actions  complex  reflexes 
due  to  physical  stimuli  and  the  structure  of  the 
nervous  system,  or  are  the  changes  in  the  brain 
that  precede  movements  initiated  and  directed  by 
consciousness?  The  question  is  one  of  facts  that 
should  be  settled  by  scientific  methods;  and  the 
solution  will  by  no  means  concern  psychology 
alone.  The  two  greatest  scientific  generalisations 
of  the  present  century  are  the  conservation  of  en- 
ergy and  evolution  by  the  survival  of  the  fit. 
Now,  if  consciousness  alters,  however  slightly,  the 
position  of  molecules  In  the  brain  the  fundamental 


1 88         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

concept  of  physical  science  must  be  abandoned. 
If  consciousness  have  no  concern  in  the  actions  of 
the  Individual  we  have  one  of  the  most  complex 
results  of  evolution  developed  apart  from  the  sur- 
vival of  useful  variations,  and  the  Darwinian 
theory  has  failed." 

We  conclude  then  with  the  suggestive  reflection 
that  '  physiological '  psychology  Is  the  keeper  of 
a  tremendous  oracle.  And,  on  the  whole,  the 
oracle  contrives  to  keep  silence! 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION: 
SOME  FACTS  AND  SOME  GUESSES 

There  be  many  shapes  of  mystery. 

Past  hope  or  fear. 
And  the  end  man  looked  for  cometh  not, 
And  a  path  is  there  where  no  man  thought. 

So  hath  it  fallen  here. 

^\      TTEREDITY'  and  'Education'  are 

I I   terms    beset    by    numerous    subtle- 

■  I  ties.  If  division  of  opinion  mean 
-*-  -^-  aught,  they  portend  ramifications 
that  lie  beyond  our  ken  as  yet.  We  must 
therefore  be  frank  with  ourselves  and,  per- 
haps, undertake  to  construct  our  own  meanings. 
For,  truth  to  tell,  the  rigid  limitations  of  predilec- 
tion and  ignorance  hamper  us  on  every  hand. 
Those  who  possess  competent  acquaintance  with 
*  Heredity '  and  '  Education  '  would  be  the  first 
to  acknowledge  the  need  for  reasoning  by  analogy, 
as  an  expedient  to  fill  gaps,  and  to  recall,  that  no 
logical  device  lies  so  open  to  the  insidious  attack 
of  fallacy.  On  the  one  side  are  limitations  pe- 
culiar to  the  writer  —  in  his  training,  in  the  bias 
resultant  upon  his  special  work,  and  Inseparable 
189 


190         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

from  his  habitual  outlook.  On  the  other  side  are 
limitations  Inherent  In  the  subjects  themselves. 
As  to  the  former:  an  Investigator  cannot  be  ex- 
pected to  slough  the  Intellectual  associations  of  a 
life-time,  much  less  to  span  knowledge.  Thus,  as 
a  humble  helot  in  a  corner  of  tlie  philosophical 
field,  I  am  well  aware  that  I  harbour  but  hazy  no- 
tions about  many  phenomena  incident  to  that  com- 
plex synthesis,  '  Heredity.'  Nor  can  I  conceal 
from  myself  that,  often,  I  fail  to  follow  biological 
arguments  clearly.  I  lack  experience  to  estimate 
the  precise  values  of  the  evidence.  Similarly, 
seeing  that  my  daily  duties  have  familiarised  me 
with  analysis  and  internal  exhibition  of  general 
concepts,  rather  than  with  the  Interplay  of  par- 
ticular precepts,  I  am  bound  to  approach  the  com- 
binations peculiar  to  '  Heredity '  and  '  Educa- 
tion '  from  a  distinct  angle.  The  reader  must 
bear  this  in  mind  as  I  proceed.  Above  all,  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  I  have  not  the  remotest  claim 
to  '  expert '  knowledge  of  matters  biological,  or 
of  the  conventions,  as  I  understand  them  to  be,  as- 
sumed by  professors  of  educational  practice.  As 
to  the  latter:  'Heredity'  and  'Education,'  like 
similar  'universes'  (so  philosophers  call  them), 
imply  various  and  fluid  conditions.  For  example, 
after  no  little  study  and  pains,  I  doubt  whether  I 
grasp  precisely  the  consensus  of  scientific  opinion 
about  '  Heredity '   at  the  moment.     Nay,   I  am 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION     191 

by  no  means  sure  that  a  consensus  exists.  While, 
after  years  of  contact  with  the  mandarins  of 
*  Education,'  I  am  fairly  certain  that  this  term 
connotes  meanings  apt  to  alter  wondrously  as  it 
passes  from  group  to  group.  Thus,  as  would  ap- 
pear already,  outlooks  differ.  Accordingly,  at 
the  outset,  I  am  caught  in  a  sea  of  troubles,  and 
can  scarce  *'  escape  the  predestinate  scratched 
face." 


It  may  not  be  amiss  to  begin  with  an  attempt  to 
clear  one's  mind  of  cant  about  '  Heredity.' 
What  is  it?  First,  and  generally,  even  the  tyro  is 
aware  that  an  organism  comes,  complete  so  far, 
from  its  immediate  ancestors.  As  our  problem 
confines  us  to  '  humans,'  we  may  declare  bluntly, 
that  men  are  produced  by  their  parents,  and  that 
this  genetic  relation  has  its  objective  basis  in  the 
sperm-cell  and  the  egg-cell.  '  Heredity '  is  no 
entity  '  out  there,'  but  a  name  bestowed  upon  a 
process  wherein  an  organism  arises  directly  from 
others,  maintains  their  nature,  and  therefore  starts 
with  an  outfit  whence  its  career  proceeds.  Or,  to 
quote  Mr.  E.  B.  Wilson:  "  The  life  of  successive 
generations  of  living  beings  shows  no  breach  of 
continuity,  but  forms  a  continuous  vital  stream  In 
which,  as  Virchow  said,  rules  an  *  eternal  law  of 
continuity.'  "     It  is  a  piece  of  mere  mysticism  to 


192         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

allege  that  aught  can  happen  In  a  human  life  irre- 
spective of  the  physiological  basis.  Accordingly, 
the  facts  of  '  Heredity  '  circle  round  the  question 
of  continuity.  What  did  you  get  from  your 
father?  from  your  mother?  from  your  fore- 
bears? How  did  you  get  it?  Plainly  enough, 
these  Inquiries  lead  to  a  comparison  between  your 
and  their  characteristics.  But  this  Investigation 
need  not  presuppose  any  conceptual  *  explana- 
tion '  of  '  Heredity  '  as  such.  Nor  need  it  pre- 
suppose a  theory  of  that  other  basal  fact  —  the 
fact  of  Individual  life-history  —  known  as  '  De- 
velopment.' Consequently,  it  appears  a  legiti- 
mate inference,  that  the  phenomena  of  '  Hered- 
ity '  can  be  realised  most  definitely  in  the  at- 
tendant problems.  Thus,  the  constitution  and  re- 
coverable past  of  germ-cells,  controlled  breeding, 
permutations  of  amphimixis,  and  the  like,  yield 
results  that  go  to  the  formation  of  the  heredity- 
concept,  because  they  enable  us  to  present  —  if 
little  more  as  yet  —  the  important  factors  which, 
under  definite  rearrangement,  are  individuals  — 
are  ourselves.  And,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  we  have 
warrant  to  assert  that  *  Heredity '  involves  a 
concept  of  mode,  not  a  concept  of  cause. 

What  do  we  know  of  this  mode?  A  synoptic 
answer  might  run  as  follows.  Germ-cells,  in  their 
nuclei  especially,  are  the  continuum:  the  two  are 
identical.     The  immediate  ancestors  integrate  in 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION     193 

them,  as  we  can  specify  now  to  some  extent.  We 
have  good  reason  to  infer  that  the  respective  con- 
tributions of  mother  and  father  reappear  In  off- 
spring, even  If  most  variably:  and  that,  sometimes, 
given  elements  —  whether  traceable  to  parents  or 
to  remoter  progenitors  —  manifest  themselves 
strongly  or  seem,  on  the  contrary,  to  undergo  In- 
hibition. We  are  certain  that  environment  Is  a 
necessary  condition  of  these  changes,  and  that  It 
bears  relation,  not  only  to  the  organism  In  gross, 
but  also  to  Its  constituent  factors  separately.  We 
are  aware  that  Individual  recapitulation  (as  In  the 
history  of  the  kidneys,  for  example,)  has  presump- 
tive evidence.  In  short,  we  are  on  the  track  of 
the  modes.  On  the  other  hand,  we  are  In  no  posi- 
tion to  explain  the  extraordinary  potentiality  of 
the  germ-cells,  nor  can  we  state  the  principle  of 
order  whereby  just  this  Individual  emerges  finally. 
That  Is  to  say,  cause  eludes  us.  We  must  rest 
content  with  hypotheses  here.  And  we  should 
frame  our  hypotheses  so  that  they  may  be  capable 
of  verification  or  of  disproof.  For,  in  the  nature 
of  the  case,  hypotheses  that  furnish  no  ground  for 
farther  verification  must  rank  as  logical  will-o'-the- 
wisps. 

But  some  enthusiast,  accustomed  to  seven- 
leagued  boots,  will  exclaim:  *'  Either  you  are  alto- 
gether too  cautious,  or  this  is  a  miserable  account 
of  empty  benches.     I  had  thought  of  '  Heredity  ' 


194         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

as  a  talisman  rather  than  as  a  prosaic  pursuit  of 
recondite  chemical  changes,  and  so  forth.  I  had 
associated  It  with  the  maternal  Impressions  that  cut 
such  a  figure  In  some  popular  novels.  I  had  seen 
It  typified  by  contemporary  playwrights  In  dypso- 
manla,  and  worse,  Inevitable  as  the  car  of  Jugger- 
naut. It  had  moved  my  imagination  profoundly 
when  I  discovered  the  meaning  of  that  strange 
word,  telegony.  My  Sunday  newspapers  had  led 
me  to  believe  that  a  judicious  diet  of  cakes  and 
ale,  or  of  canvas-back  duck  and  champagne,  would 
enable  duly  considerate  parents  to  determine  the 
sex  of  their  children.  Nay  more,  being  an  '  edu- 
cator,' and  well  versed  In  the  literature  of  my  pro- 
fession, I  had  felt  justified  In  holding  that  my  little 
charges  became,  from  year  to  year,  shad, 
monkeys,  misslng-llnks,  cave-men,  savages,  In- 
dians, nomads,  shepherds,  tillers,  and  I  had  tried 
to  train  them  In  accordance  with  these  succes- 
sive hereditary  achievements."  To  all  this  —  it 
abounds,  worse  luck  —  one  can  only  say:  thus  do 
sloppy  '  facts  '  breed  sloppier  theories,  and  add, 
by  way  of  solemn  warning,  that.  In  these  matters, 
we  can  not  keep  too  watchful  eye  upon  a  ubiquitous 
type,  given  to  frequent  teachers'  meetings,  whom 
we  may  well  baptise  '  Dr.  Viewy.'  Bad  biolog- 
ical theories,  it  has  been  noted,  when  they  die,  go 
to  —  Pedagogy. 

Nevertheless,  these  whimsies,  which  are  hardly 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION     195 

a  travesty  of  '  newspaper  science  '  and  popular 
Impressionism,  do  possess  a  certain  warrant,  even 
if  warped  from  it  by  a  far-flung  drift.  For,  as 
Is  obvious,  problems  of  '  Heredity  '  would  never 
have  arisen  did  not  germ-cells,  mediated  by  a 
genial  environment,  become  such  and  such  indi- 
viduals, marked  by  special  characteristics.  Now 
this  means  that  these  problems  stand  in  close  rela- 
tion to  the  larger  questions  of  '  Development.' 
Moreover,  some  characters  may  be  heritable, 
others  may  be  doubtful,  while  still  others 
may  be  acquired  —  may  be  modifications  In 
the  strict  sense.  So,  further,  the  problems  of 
'  Heredity '  impinge  upon  the  facts  of  Inheri- 
tance. At  this  point  the  Inquiry  must  proceed  by 
the  laborious  methods  of  observation  and  experi- 
ment or,  as  recently,  by  that  suggestive  extension 
of  the  theory  of  probability  —  biometrics.  In 
these  fields,  rather  than  in  the  sphere  of  '  Hered- 
ity '  pure  and  simple,  we  are  apt  to  be  stranded 
on  the  shoals  of  shallow  illusion.  Besides,  the 
higher  one  rises  In  the  organic  scale,  the  greater 
difficulty  In  dissipation  of  imaginary  notions  and 
irresponsible  references. 

II. 

Fortunately  or  unfortunately  for  our  theme, 
*  Education '  presupposes  precisely  the  highest 
kind  of  organisation  known  to  us.     It  carries  one 


196         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

at  a  step  from  the  physical  and  physiological  to 
the  psychological,  and  to  the  psychological  Inte- 
grated and  reintegrated  till,  at  the  first  blush,  sure 
footing  seems  Impracticable.  And  we  may  admit 
frankly  that,  while  theory  finds  ample  room  In  the 
circumambient  atmosphere,  facts  tend  to  elude, 
are  unobtainable  In  some  directions.  This  leaves 
little  choice  in  procedure.  So,  I  shall  review  con- 
siderations founded  on  what  may  be  called  facts, 
at  least  by  a  slight  stretch  of  courtesy.  There- 
after I  shall  proceed  to  a  theoretical  position  — 
one,  perhaps,  no  less  and  no  more  open  to  destruct- 
ive criticism,  nor  worthy  of  blind  faith,  than  Its 
near  kin,  the  Intellectual  spooks  that  hover  round 
the  biological  camp. 

Competent  students  would  agree  that  the  sweep 
of  empirical  science  has  gone  far  beyond  foreign 
objects  In  the  '  outer  '  world.  As  Interpreted  to- 
day. Nature  includes  the  higher  achievements  of 
man  no  less  than  his  physical  environment  and  his 
physiological  frame.  On  the  contrary,  contem- 
porary science  is  by  no  means  able  to  formulate  a 
fundamental  synthesis  for  the  '  spiritual,'  one  that 
might  stand  to  It  as  the  laws  of  motion  to  the 
stars  in  their  courses.  Briefly,  while  we  are 
aware  that  '  Heredity,'  Variation,  and  so  on,  'de- 
termine our  veritable  being,  we  are  unprepared  to 
pronounce  upon  their  laws.  Notwithstanding, 
some  things  will  take  no  denial.     Abnormalities 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION     197 

of  sensation,  motor  defects,  the  physiological  con- 
ditions of  attention  and  association,  the  influence 
of  fatigue,  the  balance  of  the  nervous  system,  the 
possibilities  of  reflex  and  voluntary  concentration, 
the  relation  of  rhythm  to  imagery  —  to  select  a 
few  instances  —  cannot  be  divorced  from  educa- 
tional problems  in  individual  cases.  Moreover, 
these  persist  in  the  tendencies  impressed  upon  us 
by  our  parents  and  remoter  ancestors.  So  much 
is  probably  ascertained.  Whatever  conclusions 
may  belong  eventually  to  a  hidden  future,  we  are 
bound  to  be  candid  with  ourselves,  and  recognise 
that  the  roots  of  our  life  strike  deep  in  the  race 
whence  we  spring.  Personally,  I  am  of  opinion 
that  theory  has  not  achieved  a  stage  where  the  con- 
stitutive process  can  be  stated  four-square  in  a 
single  proposition.  For  example,  taking  a  case 
from  my  own  side  of  the  house,  I  am  unable  to  ac- 
cept Hering's  view,  that  our  reproduction  of  an- 
cestral traits  may  be  explained  as  unconscious 
memory  of  the  past.  Persistent  undulations, 
characteristic  or  even  formative  of  molecules,  and 
stable  despite  their  ready  response  to  change,  no 
doubt  offer  an  account  of  '  Heredity '  In  terms  at 
once  of  physics,  physiology  and  psychology.  But, 
here  we  have  all  the  vagaries  of  panpsychism 
without  compensation.  Haeckel's  notorious  pro- 
nouncement Is  of  similar  import.  "  The  true  and 
ultimate  causa  efpciens  of  the  biogenetic  process,  I 


198         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

propose  to  designate  by  a  single  word,  Perlgenesis 
—  the  periodic  wave-generation  of  the  organic 
molecules  or  plastldules."  This  periodicity  of 
"  representative  particles,"  in  whose  ebb  and  flow 
lower  organisms  suffer  little  loss  or  gain,  while 
the  higher  forget  and  learn  much,  clouds  the  issue. 
Still,  theory  aside,  a  few  facts  do  emerge.  It  is 
plain  that  physical  and  physiological  qualities  are 
more  stable  than  psychological  and,  therefore,  that 
their  transmission  can  be  detected  more  certainly. 
Or,  if  you  prefer  to  have  it  so,  the  same  elemen- 
tary factors  are  less  likely  to  undergo  annulment, 
even  if  the  tendencies  due  to  them,  as  developed  in 
individuals,  vary  greatly;  even  if  the  modalities, 
to  adopt  Helmholtz's  word,  prove  less  numerous 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  scale,  numerous  to  con- 
fusion at  the  upper  limit.  This,  again,  leads  to 
the  inference  that  '  Heredity  '  possesses  a  physico- 
chemical  basis,  that,  as  Gautler  says,  ''  the  force 
which  maintains  the  species,  and  gives  it  the  char- 
acter of  constancy  and  resistance,  is  nothing  more 
than  the  resultant  of  the  forces  which  maintain  the 
chemical  species  of  which  the  organism  is  com- 
posed." In  any  event,  these  empirical  condi- 
tions enact  a  role  of  the  highest  importance.  And 
we  must  have  a  care  to  emphasise  the  '  brute  fact,' 
if  we  would  steer  clear  of  mystical  fogs.  On  the 
other  hand,  thanks  to  the  present  state  of  positive 
knowledge,  we  should  have  no  difficulty  in  agree- 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION     199 

ing  with  Hoffding.  "  Even  though  the  individual 
organism,  which  in  spite  of  its  completeness  and 
relative  independence  is  still  a  republic  of  cells, 
were  to  be  explained  as  compounded  out  of  ele- 
ments, and  its  origin  made  intelligible  through  the 
law  of  the  persistence  of  energy,  this  would  not 
explain  the  individual  consciousness,  the  forma- 
tion of  a  special  centre  of  memory,  of  action,  of 
suffering.  That  it  is  possible  for  such  an  Individ- 
ual centre  to  come  Into  being  is  the  fundamental 
problem  of  all  our  knowledge.  Each  individual 
trait,  each  individual  property,  might  perhaps  be 
explained  by  the  power  of  heredity  and  the  influ- 
ence of  experience;  but  the  inner  unity,  to  which 
all  elements  refer,  and  by  virtue  of  which  the  in- 
dividuality is  a  psychical  individuality,  remains 
for  us  an  eternal  riddle."  Nor  can  we  accuse  him 
of  positing  a  transcendent  '  self  '  here ;  he  al- 
leges simply,  that  analysis  must  go  farther,  and 
reckon  with  still  other  facts. 

Finally,  it  will  not  do  to  dodge  these  survivals 
of  the  ape  and  tiger  by  the  naive  expedient,  dear 
to  some,  of  shifting  the  venue  from  individuals  to 
the  race.  For  we  may  regard  it  as  proven  that 
evolution  takes  place,  not  according  to  this  or  that 
quality  in  this  or  that  individual,  but  through  the 
mediation  of  characteristics  common  in  degree  to 
members  of  a  group,  characteristics  productive  of 
a  norm  that  enables  us  to  note  variations  of  indl- 


200         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

viduals,  whether  by  excess  or  by  defect.  And, 
just  as  the  organism  exerts  a  determining  influence 
in  the  arrangement  of  intra-individual  qualities, 
so  the  environment  operates  with  qualities  pe- 
culiar to  groups.  Every  species  possesses  a  phys- 
ical basis,  and  the  same  holds  of  any  conceivable 
human  society.  It  is  undeniable  that  the  configu- 
ration of  France  and  Germany  account  to  some  ex- 
tent for  the  differences  between  the  inhabitants. 
In  like  manner,  the  association  of  rivers  with  the 
sites  of  populous  places  —  so  constant  in  the  pre- 
railroad  epoch  —  has  been  noted  often.  Every- 
body perceives  that  the  accessible  material  wealth 
of  the  United  States  has  determined  immigration 
to  us  rather  than,  say,  to  the  Brazilian  hinterland, 
to  Australia,  or  to  the  frozen  coal-fields  of  the 
Antarctic.  Similarly,  climate,  with  its  components 
of  light  and  temperature  and  moisture,  has  af- 
fected peoples  profoundly.  There  be  those  who 
would  trace  American  wit  to  our  atmosphere, 
where  objects  stand  forth  almost  stereoscopic,  with- 
out the  purple  iridescence  that  suffuses  the  land- 
scape in  the  sea-set  isles  of  our  forefathers.  Our 
untravelled  folk  have  not  the  remotest  idea  of 
the  cosmic  Intimation  that  choruses  in  the  amber 
glow  of  a  Scottish  sunset.  So,  too,  in  the  olden 
time,  as  far  back  as  Pindar,  the  Greeks  attributed 
the  "  swinishness  "  of  their  pet  butts,  the  Boeo- 
tians,    to    a    like    cause,     as    Cicero    intimates. 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    201 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  very  idea  has  per- 
sisted in  literature  to  Carlyle.  Further,  the  def- 
inite factors  of  the  environment  count  for  much. 
Water,  forests,  metals,  vegetable  and  animal  life, 
the  physical  possibilities  of  Industry,  mould  a  race 
just  as  the  bodily  frame  an  individual.  The  burly 
habit  of  the  Englishman,  his  round  trunk,  his 
phlegmatic  temper,  imply  his  environment,  as 
Shakespeare  saw  long  since.  Now,  if  we  are  to 
observe  the  law  of  economy  in  thought,  we  must 
permit  these  empirical  explanations  to  carry  us  as 
far  as  possible.  Nay,  we  ought  to  go  to  the  phys- 
ical for  the  group,  to  the  physiological  for  the  in- 
dividual, if  we  desire  to  gain  a  vantage  whence  we 
may  reach  something  panoplied  in  the  armour  of 
accuracy.  There  should  be  no  blinking  the  issue 
on  these  points,  no  misunderstanding  of  the  facts 
now  known,  or  of  their  trend. 

III. 

It  was  necessary  to  dwell  on  these  aspects  with 
no  little  emphasis,  because,  as  we  shall  see,  there  is 
a  sense  in  which  they  may  be  said  to  function  sub- 
ordinately  when  '  Education  '  and  its  special  dif- 
ficulties claim  the  centre  of  the  stage.  The  pas- 
sage to  one  of  the  most  complex  arrangements  de- 
vised by  human  society  transports  us  at  a  leap  to 
a  world  diverse  from  that  of  the  biologist.  But 
the  biological  elements  remain,  assert  their  pres- 


202         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

ence  continually,  and  exact  due  attention  in  any 
reckoning.  Thus,  we  breathe,  and  blink  eyelids, 
just  as  the  heart  beats — automatically.  Other 
actions,  like  coughing  when  '  a  crumb  goes  the 
wrong  way,'  or  sneezing  in  a  dust-laden  chamber, 
are  somewhat  less  simple  —  reflexes,  independent 
of  control  by  consciousness.  Up  the  scale  another 
step  come  the  higher  reflexes  —  habitual  activities 
requiring,  apparently,  no  interference  from  the 
higher  nerve-centres;  in  these  man  reminds  us  of 
wasps  and  beavers.  Next  are  complex  reflexes, 
involving  the  higher  centres,  and  yet  so  inbred 
that  they  operate  without  prior  empirical  trial.  In 
the  two  last  cases  the  process,  while  well  balanced 
in  relation  to  environment,  may  not  need  to  pass 
the  threshold  of  consciousness.  And  on  this  ob- 
scure problem  theories  crowd.  But,  be  theory 
what  it  may,  biological  factors,  especially  in  their 
presumptive  '  psycho-physical '  extensions,  pre- 
dominate. Nay,  we  must  insist  that  these  quasi- 
psychological  events  '  survive '  in  man.  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  —  to  use  a  picturesque 
phrase  — "  we  have  lines  of  least  resistance  in 
our  brains,"  and  this  unconsciously.  In  like  man- 
ner, mere  perceptual  reference,  below  the  level  of 
organising  reason,  is  shared  by  us  with  other  ani- 
mals. But,  man  employs  them  as  a  kind  of 
spring-board  whence  he  propels  himself  to  a  plane 
whither   brutes   cannot    follow:    hence    this    very 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    203 

designation  — '  brutes.'  Opinions  pro  or  con 
man's  exclusive  possession  of  '  reason  '  need  not 
delay  us  here.  But  no  one  would  dispute  for  a 
moment  that  human  reason  attains  a  new  dimen- 
sion, or  that,  in  turn,  the  evolution  of  speech,  pari 
passu  with  other  modes  of  cooperation,  has  reori- 
ented man  to  '  animal '  conditions.  So  much  so, 
indeed,  that  he  has  often  mistaken  himself  for  an 
angel  or  a  devil,  occasionally  for  a  deity,  and  has 
forgotten  his  poor  cousins  on  four  —  or  fifty  — 
feet.  Little  as  he  may  be  justified  in  this  self- 
esteem  or  superciliousness,  he  is  justified  at  least 
to  the  extent  that  a  fresh  group  of  problems 
emerges  from  his  development  of  consciousness. 
Moreover,  new  methods  of  approach  and  inquiry 
become  necessary.  Omit  them,  and  you  lag  on 
the  fringes  of  the  question. 

One  may  assert  that,  till  they  diverge  on  this 
plane,  human  young,  like  animal,  conserve  funda- 
mental characteristics  as  received  from  ancestors, 
although  with  numerous  variations,  slight,  but  ob- 
vious; for  example,  in  brothers  and  sisters.  Or, 
putting  it  otherwise.  Variation  revolves  about 
a  normal,  average,  continuum.  Further,  this 
holds,  with  high  probability,  for  the  psychological 
no  less  than  for  the  physiological.  At  all  events, 
Pearson's  results  support  this  Inference.  No 
doubt.  In  the  nature  of  the  case,  as  observation 
and  experiment  unite  to  show,  mental  variations 


204         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

tend  to  be  elusive,  because  their  differentiations 
are  wider.  This  may  be,  possibly  is,  due  to  the 
reaction  of  '  memory '  and  *  reason '  upon  the 
simple  reflexes.  But,  even  so,  the  Issue  does  not 
appear  to  eventuate  in  anything  that  amounts  to 
discontinuity.  The  '  inborn  '  set  anchors  the  In- 
dividual, as  it  were.  That  is,  In  the  organism, 
and  in  those  psychical  activities  traceable  directly 
to  physiological  structure  or  process,  permanence 
of  type,  and  close  Identity  of  coordination,  must 
be  held  proven.  Accordingly,  it  Is  a  fair  deduc- 
tion that  '  Education  '  encounters  limits  here.  It 
cannot  create,  although  It  may  elicit  or  inhibit 
given  capacity  —  given  by  '  Heredity.'  Thus  the 
facts  of  '  Heredity '  may  clarify  our  notions 
of  the  practicable.  They  furnish  data,  more  ac- 
curate than  we  have  had  hitherto,  about  the  phys- 
iological basis.  By  enabling  us  to  comprehend 
abnormalities,  they  offer  pregnant  hints  for  the 
treatment  of  defectives,  in  particular  cases. 
They  also  puncture  cranky  schemes  which,  if  ap- 
plied to  normals,  might  well  overset  their  balance. 
In  short,  '  Heredity  '  throws  lambent  light  upon 
some  dark  places.  It  warns  us  off  hair-brained 
adventures,  by  proving  that  man  Is  so  stable  as 
to  defy  our  puny  efforts  to  extend  his  •  range  by 
any  conventional  methodism.  For,  we  must  rec- 
ognise that  It  fixes  unilateral  adaptation  In  those 
senso-motor  activities  known  as  instinct,  and  also 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    205 

In  those  secondary  manifestations  of  automatism 
called  habits.  In  this  way,  it  suggests  that  men 
possess  definite  mental  tendencies  not  amenable  to 
profound  alteration  by  any  educational  nostrums. 
For,  as  Forel  says,  "  Every  human  race,  clearly 
differentiated,  possesses  a  collection  of  special 
mental  attributes  Inherited  in  the  course  of  its  evo- 
lution, attributes  which  no  civilisation  can  either 
produce  or  destroy."  Thus  —  and  Inevitably  so 
—  the  study  of  '  Heredity '  reminds  us  that  a 
great  part  of  '  Education  '  so-called  is  nothing 
but  instruction.  This  sort  of  thing  perpetuates, 
and  Is  condemned  to  perpetuate,  a  type  which, 
later,  "  will  exhibit  the  talent  for  all  unproductive- 
ness .  .  .  one  of  those  creatures  incapable  of  in- 
dividual combination  and  independence  of  mind, 
but  gifted  with  facility."  By  contrast,  we  may 
learn  that  real  '  Education  '  must  proceed  other- 
wise. It  must  say  Insistently,  "  Keep  your  brain 
for  better  work.  Form  your  will,  your  judgment, 
your  Independence  of  character."  But,  evidently, 
we  have  reached  the  plane  of  divergence  here. 

IV. 

Man  is  an  animal,  and  something  more,  he  Is 
also  man.  And,  while  it  may  be  difficult  to  Indi- 
cate the  precise  difference  In  any  brief  form  of 
words,  I  have  the  temerity  to  summarise  the  con- 
trast as  follows.     So  long  as  you  classify  him  with 


2o6         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

the  other  animals,  and  attempt  to  estimate  him  by 
means  of  this  genealogical  relationship,  you  find 
that  man  varies  little.  The  stable  element  en- 
forced by  '  Heredity  '  lies  heavy  upon  him.  On 
the  contrary,  admit  the  phenomena  characteristic 
of  the  human  plane,  and  you  discover  that  he  is 
capable  of  extensive  modification.  Well,  then, 
what  may  these  phenomena  be? 

In  the  first  place,  and  with  special  reference  to 
the  individual,  there  appears  to  be  a  psychological 
fork,  as  it  were,  where  men  diverge  from  animals, 
although  the  two  paths  may  continue  nearby  for  a 
long  distance.  We  know  that  animals  can  be 
taught  to  form  new  associations  on  the  basis  of  per- 
ception, as  numerous  experiments  show  conclu- 
sively. Perceptions  may  eventuate  in  inferences 
indicative  clearly  of  intelligence,  but  not  yet  de- 
manding for  their  explanation  any  reference  to  the 
higher  reasoning  dependent  upon  power  to  em- 
ploy abstract  ideas.  That  is  to  say,  we  have  ob- 
vious reactions  to  a  particular  group  of  circum- 
stances, but  not  grasp  upon  a  series  of  kindred 
groups  in  such  a  way  as  to  elicit  principles,  causes, 
and  the  like.  Necessarily,  too,  intelligence  fails 
here  to  detect  an  identity  of  nature  .in  similar 
groups  which  can  be  '  carried  about  in  the  mind,' 
and  applied  immediately  to  other  cases.  Accord- 
ingly, in  this  regard,  men  and  animals  may  diverge, 
and  still  pursue   tracks  parallel  to  some   extent. 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    207 

But,  sooner  or  later,  a  decisive  point  of  departure 
arrives,  where  the  human  skews  from  the  animal 
with  marked  emphasis.  Then  we  encounter  psy- 
chical manifestations  peculiar  to  '  reason ' — 
manifestations  impossible  except  as  abstract  or 
general  Ideas  are  used,  not  only  to  interpret  per- 
ceptions, but  as  bases  for  syntheses  between  ab- 
stract ideas.  Thus,  animals,  like  many  men  in  a 
primitive  stage  of  mental  development,  are  Incap- 
able of  science.  On  the  other  hand,  when  science 
or  any  similar  Weltansicht,  makes  Its  appearance, 
a  new  situation  confronts  us,  one  in  which,  as  I 
have  hinted,  the  biological  element  functions  sub- 
ordlnately.  Arrived  here,  we  can  no  longer 
adopt  the  otiose  attitude  of  Pope,  and  ask  blandly, 

"  If  plagues  or  earthquakes  break  not  Heav'n's  design, 
Why  then  a  Borgia  or  a  Cataline?  " 

For,  when  abstract  thinking,  with  its  generation  of 
transitive  ideas,  has  upthrust  its  disturbance  within 
him,  man  begins  his  eternal  struggle  to  escape  the 
thraldom  of  Nature.  Or,  as  D.  F.  Strauss  said, 
"  In  him  Nature  endeavoured  to  transcend  herself. 
Man  not  only  can  and  should  know  Nature,  but,  so 
far  as  his  powers  allow,  should  rule  both  external 
Nature  and  the  natural  in  himself." 

Yes,  '  man  '  I  Whereupon,  secondly,  we  have 
stepped  beyond  the  tiny  circle  of  the  individual, 
and  suggested  already  another  source,  perhaps  an- 


2o8         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

other  kind,  of  divergence.  As  was  Indicated  at 
the  outset,  analogical  reasoning  besets  this  problem. 
The  thunderous  phrase,  "  man  an  organic  com- 
munity," echoes  from  Idea  to  Idea,  resounding  on 
many  misty  mountain-tops  of  thought,  reverberat- 
ing in  valleys  where  continuous  twilight  prevails. 
Even  so,  for  the  present  purpose  it  may  suffice  to 
hint  that  man,  the  individual,  never  exists  as  an 
individual.  Briefly,  that  definite  and  apparently 
separable  thing  we  fain  would  term  a  man,  faces 
many  ways,  all  leading  from  self.  As  we  have 
seen,  the  '  omnlprepotence  '  of  '  Heredity  '  as- 
serts, and  with  no  uncertain  sound,  that  his  outlook 
lies  to  the  past;  as  an  organism  he  looks  backward. 
Yet,  looking,  he  thinks  the  while ;  whereupon  other 
considerations  arise,  obscure,  because  investigation 
stands  but  on  their  threshold.  Despite  Ignorance, 
their  presence  transforms.  As  a  reflective  being, 
man  looks  around,  nay,  projects  himself  into  phases 
of  experience  that  possess  nor  local  habitation  nor 
name.  Perchance,  this  far  world  of  the  mind's 
desire  may  win  to  fact  at  length.  To-day  it  is 
not !  As  a  moral  and  religious  being,  man  looks 
up,  demanding  completion.  Like  Carlyle's  famous 
shoeblack,  he  would  ''require  for  his. permanent 
satisfaction  and  saturation,  simply  this  "allotment, 
no  more  and  no  less:  God's  Infinite  universe  alto- 
gether to  himself."  Your  individual,  precisely 
when  he  most  deserves  the  epithet  '  man,'  poses 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    209 

as  the  spectator  of  all  time  and  existence,  or,  bet- 
ter still,  serves  himself  the  bearer  of  every  age  that 
ever  was*  to  the  greater  ages  that  are  yet  to  be.  In 
his  capacity  as  an  organism,  he  may  Indeed  assume 
the  state  and  dignity  of  an  '  Individual,'  because 
he  cannot  communicate  Its  special  modes  —  sensa- 
tions. In  his  capacity  as  a  man,  he  never  earns 
title  to  this  barren  sort  of  individuality,  because 
the  ideas,  pursuits,  beliefs,  and  judgments  of  value 
that  alone  suffice  to  personality  —  the  more  it  is 
to  be  reckoned  with,  the  more  conspicuously  — 
have  been  communicated,  must  remain  communi- 
cable In  essence,  so  be  they  would  rank  as  effective 
components  of  experience.  The  specific  modes  of 
anything  fit  for  characterisation  as  Intellect,  ideal, 
or  culture,  are  specific  just  In  proportion  as  they 
are  communicable.  Mutuality  makes  them  what 
they  are.  And,  worse  luck,  science  fails  us  on 
these  seductive  matters,  empirical  understanding 
abdicates.  Nevertheless,  good  cess  or  bad,  '  Edu- 
cation '  makes  its  bed  just  here. 

From  the  standpoint  of  biology,  of  any  positive 
science,  Indeed,  we  meet  a  whimsical  or,  as  the 
English  would  say,  Gilbertian,  universe  on  this 
plane.  For,  positive  science  deals  with  specific 
relations  between  objects  or,  in  its  psychological 
extension,  with  connections  between  subjects  and 
objects.  The  typical  phenomena  are  conditioned 
by  a  process  of  actual  contact  or,  as  in  sight,  by 


210         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

what  is  tantamount  to  contact  —  the  mechanism 
of  waves  Impinging  upon  that  photographic  cam- 
era, the  eye.  Moreover,  Investigation  concentrates 
its  effort  upon  the  Hnkage  of  effects  with  causes. 
Thus,  dualism  tends  to  dominate  the  situation; 
causes  are  of  one  kind,  effects  of  another.  As 
Huxley  observed,  in  a  classical  passage,  the  odour 
of  the  musk-rose  and  the  musklness  in  the  rose  re- 
main for  ever  Incommensurable.  But,  '  Educa- 
tion '  arrived,  the  primary  fact  happens  to  be  the 
interpenetratlon  of  mind  by  mind.  Nothing  oc- 
curs In  the  nature  of  the  contact  just  cited,  unless 
we  say,  by  a  bit  of  permissible  materialism,  one 
idea  caroms  off  another.  We  may  predict  the 
psychological  Issue  of  a  physical  sign  In  certain 
cases.  We  are  at  no  such  advantage  with  ideas. 
What  strange  '  story  '  will  a  reporter  not  extract 
from  an  address?  As  often  happens,  his  misrep- 
resentation will  puzzle  the  wit  of  all  other  audi- 
tors. Two  friends  meet  to  discuss  a  thorny  ques- 
tion; they  have  not  the  faintest  notion  how  their 
intercourse  will  modify  the  conclusions  of  both. 
The  Identical  words  printed  here,  not  only  may, 
but  must  Induce  contrasted  conceptions  from  reader 
to  reader.  For,  they  are  condemned  to  find  their 
way  to  due  place  in  that  extraordinarily  compli- 
cated whole,  the  personal  experience  of  each. 
They  cannot  escape  the  twist  given  by  convictions 
and  presuppositions.     '  Education  '  consists  of  ma- 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    211 

terlal  common  to  Individuals,  and  depends  upon 
the  possibility  of  producing  harmony  within  cultural 
groups,  whose  every  member  forms  a  group  In  his 
or  her  turn. 

"  Let  me  calmly 
Face  the  paradox  which  leads  me  to  maintain 
The  very  phiases  of  the  enemy 
Over  against  the  championing  of  friends  .  .  . 
Who  shall  be  stronger,  still  must  ease  his  strength 
As  I,  in  speaking  self  forth  in  the  speech 
Of  great  souls,  great  by  self-pois'd  circumstance, 
Not  blindly  passion-warp'd,  but  more  and  more 
Personal,  comprehensive  of  world-life !  " 

Needless  to  insist,  problems  cluster  here,  like 
filings  to  a  magnet.  Why  is  it  easy  to  propagate 
ideas  at  a  set  time,  and  within  a  typical  civilisa- 
tion? Why  do  the  same  ideas  become  '  impos- 
sible '  under  other  cultural  conditions?  How  hap- 
pen the  quick  response  and  rapid  extension? 
How,  on  the  contrary,  the  inhibition  and  even  dis- 
taste? Why  should  we  have  denominational 
'Education;'  is  not  truth  one?  What  transfor- 
mations are  incident  inevitably  to  such  processes? 
Maybe,  suggestion  might  throw  light  upon  these 
questions.  It  certainly  illuminates  phenomena  of 
arrest  and  reinforcement  under  the  relative  circum- 
stances. But  then,  again,  we  pull  ourselves  up 
sharply  in  its  presence  —  It  hardly  deals  with  the 
normal   or   average   occasion.     Study  of   '  mob ' 


212         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

psychology  might  offer  hints;  but  then,  the  mob 
happens  to  wallow  in  opinion  rather  than  to  seek 
the  white  rays  of  knowledge.  Contagion,  as  psy- 
chologists call  it,  and  '  Education  '  indeed  com- 
mingle. But  then,  the  subjects  of  the  mixture 
must  be  exceeding  fit;  therefore,  they  are  exceed- 
ing few.  For,  it  takes  overwhelming  persons  to 
propagate  or  inhibit  Ideas  Influentially.  Thus, 
mayhap,  the  most  we  can  tie  to  here  might  be  ex- 
pressed in  an  admission  that,  after  all,  the  dithy- 
rambs of  some  eighteenth  century  German  roman- 
tics were  not  so  far  out.  Select  Herder,  for  in- 
stance. 

*'  A  primitive  people,  like  a  child,  stares  at  all 
things;  fright,  fear,  admiration  are  the  only  emo- 
tions of  which  It  Is  capable,  and  the  language  of 
these  emotions  consists  of  high-pitched,  Inarticu- 
late sounds,  and  violent  gestures.  This  is  the  first, 
prehistoric,  infantile  period  In  the  history  of  a  lan- 
guage. There  follows  the  period  of  youth. 
With  the  Increasing  knowledge  of  things,  fright 
and  wonder  are  softened.  Man  comes  to  be  more 
familiar  with  his  surroundings,  his  life  becomes 
more  civilised.  But  as  yet  he  is  in  close  contact 
with  nature;  affections,  emotions,  sensuous  impres- 
sions have  more  influence  upon  conduct  than  prin- 
ciples and  thought.  This  Is  the  age  of  poetry. 
The  language  now  Is  a  melodious  echo  of  the 
outer  world;  it  Is  full  of  images  and  metaphors,  it 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    213 

Is  free  and  natural  in  Its  construction.  The  whole 
life  of  the  people  Is  poetry.  Battles  and  victories, 
fables  and  moral  reflections,  laws  and  mythology 
are  now  contained  In  song.  The  third  period  Is 
the  age  of  manhood.  The  social  fabric  grows 
more  complicated,  the  laws  of  conduct  become 
more  artificial,  the  Intellect  obtains  the  ascendency 
over  the  emotions.  Literature  also  takes  part  In 
this  change.  The  language  becomes  more  ab- 
stract; It  strives  for  regularity,  for  order;  It  gains 
In  Intellectual  strength  and  loses  In  sensuous  fer- 
vour; in  other  words,  poetry  Is  replaced  by  prose. 
And  prose,  In  Its  turn,  after  It  has  fulfilled  the 
measure  of  Its  maturity,  sinks  into  senile  correct- 
ness and  sterility,  thus  rounding  out  the  life  of  a 
given  national  literature,  and  making  room  for  a 
new  development." 

What  is  the  '  gatekeeper  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury '  trying  to  reach  here?  He  is  struggling  to 
liberate  himself  from  subjective  feeling,  to  de- 
velop a  scientific  basis  on  the  concept  of  a  norma- 
tive type.  So  far  as  '  Education  '  Is  concerned. 
It  may  be  asserted  that  subsequent  work,  executed 
essentially  in  Herder's  temper,  has  done  something 
to  verify  his  '  type,'  at  least  for  the  individual. 
Is  it  not  true  that  the  infant  faces  the  world  modi- 
fiable almost  without  limit?  But,  on  the  con- 
trary, Is  It  not  true  that  he  has  little  or  nothing  to 
teach?     In  youth  he  becomes  an  adept  at  imita- 


214         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

tion,  but  hardly  gains  a  point  where  he  can  be 
said  to  mould  others  profoundly.  In  maturity 
and  old  age,  the  positions  reverse.  Suggestibility 
loses  Its  resilience;  the  man,  now  made,  acts  as  a 
standard-bearer,  the  Imitator  comes  to  be  the  pat- 
tern. In  a  word,  paradox  though  it  be,  the  more 
the  individual  Is  adopted  into  his  cultural  sphere 
by  'Education,'  the  less  individual  he  becomes; 
yet,  as  a  vehicle  of  this  very  culture,  he  has  become 
more  Individual  than  ever.  The  facts  seem  to  ad- 
mit of  no  dispute.  And  they  stand  in  intimate 
connection  with  certain  aspects  of  '  Heredity,' 
about  which  we  are  able  to  do  little  more  than  the- 
orise. To  this  side  of  the  matter  we  may  turn  in 
conclusion. 


At  this  juncture  what  more  natural  than  that 
we  should  seek  aid  from  the  professional  peda- 
gogists,  even  If,  In  the  eyes  of  many,  they  are  but 
sons  of  the  marshes  of  science?  To  little  pur- 
pose, alas !  For,  despite  its  respectable  titulars, 
'  Education  '  wends  Its  way  much  like  any  science 
'  on  the  make.'  Dubious  about  its  material.  It 
flies  for  refuge  to  a  familiar  expedient.  It  as- 
similates Itself  to  contiguous  disciphnes  of"  superior 
stability.  But  yet  In  the  gristle,  it  leans  upon  its 
lustier  neighbours,  biology  or  psychology  or  even 
sociology,   often  uncertain  what  it  would  be   at. 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    215 

No  doubt,  it  has  a  mournful  linguistic  lore  of 
Its  own.  Principles  of  stimulation,  nourishment, 
pleasure,  habituation.  Interest,  and  so  forth;  prog- 
ress from  the  Known  to  the  Unknown,  from  the 
Simple  to  the  Complex,  from  the  Concrete  to  the 
Abstract,  and  all  the  rest,  do  aspire  to  convey  an 
air  of  verisimilitude.  But,  we  may  be  forgiven 
If  we  ask, —  and  without  levity, —  Where  does 
*  Education  '  come  In?  Is  It,  like  the  pagan  gods, 
merely  an  abstraction,  constantly  demanding  hu- 
man sacrifices?  Thus  our  appeal  to  the  mandarins 
would  seem  to  Issue  In  a  curious  result.  On 
"  purely  pedagogical  grounds,"  we  appear  com- 
pelled to  class  '  Education  '  with  local  option,  uni- 
versal suffrage,  the  '  credit-elective  system,'  and 
''  other  grotesque  but  strictly  reasonable  abomina- 
tions." It  looks  as  If  we  had  exchanged  the  old 
bondage  to  Ignorance  for  one  more  perilous  —  to 
a  neologism  remote  from  human  actualities.  To 
alter  the  figure.  It  remains  a  possibility,  of  course, 
that  the  fragments  assembled  with  such  assiduity 
by  our  pedagogical  palaeontologists  far  afield  in 
the  Borneo  of  other  sciences  may  have  been  sub- 
jected to  speculative  restoration.  In  any  case,  few 
will  rest  content  with  the  conclusion  that  '  Educa- 
tion '  must  be  classed  as  the  fruit  of  a  caprice  on 
the  part  of  that  missing  link,  the  State,  for  the 
contemporary  descendant  of  David  Hume,  De- 
scriptive Psychology.     Its  obvious  relation  to  '  de- 


2i6         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

scent '  notwithstanding,  this  hybrid  holds  aloof 
from  our  present  problem.  In  another  incarna- 
tion, "  the  science  and  art  of  education  "  may  be 
able  to  offer  more  than  a  set  of  anagrams.  Mean- 
time, its  advocatus  diaboli  awaits  a  discomfiture 
that  belongs  to  the  future. 

Suppose,  then,  that  we  attempt  another  tack, 
and  carry  appeal  to  the  sociologist.  At  the  close 
of  his  Study  of  Sociology,  Herbert  Spencer 
writes : 

"  If  we  contemplate  the  order  of  nature,  we  see 
that  everywhere  vast  results  are  brought  about  by 
accumulations  of  minute  actions.  The  surface  of 
the  Earth  has  been  sculptured  by  forces  which  in 
the  course  of  a  year  produce  alterations  scarcely 
visible  anywhere.  Its  multitudes  of  different  or- 
ganic forms  have  arisen  by  processes  so  slow,  that, 
during  the  periods  our  observations  extend  over, 
the  results  are  in  most  cases  inappreciable.  We 
must  be  content  to  recognise  these  truths  and  con- 
form our  hopes  to  them.  Light,  falling  upon  a 
crystal,  is  capable  of  altering  its  molecular  arrange- 
ments, but  it  can  do  this  only  by  a  repetition  of  Im- 
pulses almost  Innumerable.  .  .  .  Similarly,  before 
there  arise  in  human  nature  and  human  Institutions, 
changes  having  that  permanence  which  makes  them 
an  acquired  inheritance  for  the  human  race,  there 
must  be  innumerable  recurrences  of  the  thoughts, 
feelings,  and  actions,  conducive  to  such  changes. 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    217 

The  process  cannot  be  abridged ;  and  must  be  gone 
through  with  due  patience." 

After  Spencer's  habit,  this  looks  like  a  develop- 
ment of  the  obvious.  But  its  translucence  —  as 
often  happens  with  this  writer  —  serves  to  clothe  a 
naked  fallacy.  The  suggestion  is,  that  social 
changes  parallel  geological  and  zoological  in  tardi- 
ness. It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  mislead- 
ing analogy.  Relative  to  our  brief  day,  social 
achievement  indeed  lags.  Relative  to  '  epochs,' 
as  science  understands  them,  it  is  a  marvel  of  ra- 
pidity. And  the  interesting  point  under  examina- 
tion now  may  be  summed  in  the  statement,  that 
social  transformation  supervenes  upon  intellectual, 
and  that,  consequently,  societies  alter  their  outlook 
in  what,  for  geology  at  least,  would  count  as  ca- 
tastrophic fashion.  As  I  have  said,  we  know  lit- 
tle about  these  matters;  but  the  facts  stare  us  in  the 
face,  implying  much  for  '  Education.' 

Take  the  examples  set  forth  a  generation  since 
by  Mr.  Stuart  Glennie.  Before  the  sixth  century 
B.  C.  civilisation  was  one  thing;  after  this  memo- 
rable era,  along  a  mighty  curve  from  the  Hoang- 
Ho  to  the  Tiber,  it  became  another  and  far  differ- 
ent thing.  We  cannot  attach  less  meaning  to  those 
wonderful  events.  Laou-tseu  flourished  about 
550  B.C.;  Confucius  was  born  near  this  date, 
Gotama  a  decade  later.  Deutero-Isaiah  and  Cyrus 
accomplished  their  great  works  about  538;  Anax- 


21 8         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

agoras  was  born  In  500,  while  Pythagoras  entered 
upon  his  epoch-making  activity  in  Italy  about  540. 
Whatever  the  darkness  of  a  remote  past  may  con- 
ceal, we  are  aware  that  to  these  synchronous  out- 
bursts, and  all  they  imply,  a  sudden  cultural  rise 
must  be  traced,  one  so  pervasive  that  we,  inher- 
itors of  the  ages,  live  in  its  wane,  possibly  its  final 
wane,  at  this  good  hour.  For,  this  pivotal  period 
attained  its  zenith  in  Alexander  the  Great  and 
Aristotle,  and  won  a  dominion  without  rival  since. 
Then  followed  a  second  upheaval,  initiated  by 
Julius  Csesar  and  Caesar  Augustus,  that  culminated 
in  the  victory  of  Christianity  under  Constantine  — 
the  most  important  single  influence  in  contemporary 
civilisation.  This  was  succeeded  by  a  third  tran- 
sitive movement,  also  of  five  hundred  years'  dura- 
tion, when  Muhammadanism,  with  its  creed  and 
polity,  burst  upon  mankind,  to  furnish  stimulus  to 
Byzantine  and  Mediaeval  culture.  A  fourth  ef- 
florescence, once  more  lasting  some  five  hundred 
years,  witnessed  a  new  conflict  between  Asia  and 
Europe,  when  the  Turks,  fighting  for  the  Hither 
East,  stung  western  civilisation  into  an  activity 
that  left  four  monumental  consequences  —  the 
eight  Crusades,  the  systems  of  Scholasticism,  the 
bloom  of  Romantic  Chivalry,  and  Gothic  architec- 
ture. Finally,  the  Reformation  and  Renascence 
arrived,  at  the  close  of  whose  five-hundred-year 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    219 

aftermath  we  live,  in  a  time  puzzled  by  many  signs 
of  impending  change.  The  renewed  conflict  be- 
tween Asia  and  Europe  in  the  Russo-Japanese 
struggle,  with  its  effect  upon  American,  German 
and  British  politics,  means  more,  probably,  than 
surface  signs  indicate.  Here,  then,  we  see  five 
extraordinary  '  lifts,'  as  they  may  be  termed,  fol- 
lowing at  regular  intervals,  and  intimating  discon- 
tinuity in  continuity.  What  does  it  all  mean?  It 
seems  to  me  that  laws,  not  now  on  a  cosmic-me- 
chanical, but  on  a  cosmic-human  scale,  may  be  in- 
volved. Unfortunately,  we  are  only  in  the  stage 
of  collection  of  facts.  And  this  is  the  more  un- 
lucky that  '  Education  '  belongs  naturally  to  the 
milieu  distinctive  of  such  events.  Perforce,  then, 
we  must  rest  content  with  a  few  reflections  more  or 
less  of  a  hypothetical  nature. 

Setting  aside  the  larger  movement,  what  dare  we 
say?  Walking  in  dusk,  if  not  In  darkness,  we 
must  command  the  requisite  daring,  with  Its  se- 
quence of  accident.  And,  remembering  the  limita- 
tion, I  would  answer :  —  The  conviction  grows 
upon  me  that,  whatever  may  be  the  biological  case, 
when  we  come  to  cultural  conditions  a  primary  fac- 
tor is  precisely  the  constant  transmission  of  ac- 
quired characters;  or,  more  accurately,  of  modifi- 
cations peculiar  to  and  originated  by  individuals 
in  the  course  of  their  unique,  personal  careers. 


220         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Mercifully,  our  present  subject  does  not  require 
that  we  dogmatise  about  the  means.  The  fact, 
in  some  sort,  hammers  Itself  home  by  recurrence. 
For  Instance,  take  Shakespeare  or  Milton,  Emer- 
son or  Darwin.  One  can  allege,  doubtless,  that 
Shakespeare  quired  the  quintessential  quality  of  the 
Renascence ;  that  Milton  wrought  a  wondrous  com- 
bination of  Greek  beauty  with  Protestant  theology, 
and  Puritan  morals;  that  Emerson  grafted  FIchte's 
popular  works  and  European  Romanticism  upon 
a  new  stem,  in  a  new  world;  that  Darwin  clinched 
with  serried  evidence  the  suggestive  theories  of 
VIco  (1722),  Montesquieu  (1734),  Buffon 
(1749),  Monboddo  (1773),  Erasmus  Darwin 
(1794),  Goethe  (1795),  Malthus  (1798),  La- 
marck (1809),  G.  St.  Hilaire  (1830),  and  Cham- 
bers (1844),  to  say  nothing  of  the  meek,  inglo- 
rious Wells  (18 18)  and  Matthew  (1831).  For 
all  alike,  'things'  were  in  the  air;  and  this  may 
be  taken  as  the  '  Heredity '  aspect.  At  the  same 
time.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  these  men  of  genius 
Initiated  a  fresh  intellectual  '  lift,'  which  trans- 
mitted Itself  from  them,  and  became  an  integral 
portion  of  the  heritage  received  by  later  genera- 
tions. While  it  is  true  that  each  occupied  a  place 
In  the  order.  It  is  also  true  that  each  performed  a 
feat  akin  to  creation  —  acquired  a  modification, 
not  present  otherwise,  and  that  the  acquisition 
passed  on. 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    221 

**  Such  souls 
Whose  sudden  visitations  daze  the  world, 
Vanish  like  lightning,  but  they  leave  behind 
A  voice  that  in  the  distance  far  away 
Wakens  the  slumbering  ages." 

Thus,  on  the  level  where  '  Education  *  abides, 
the  upshot  seems  to  be  that  two  main  factors,  each 
complex  beyond  all  present  means  of  analysis,  can 
be  detected.  And  they  unite  to  serve  the  con- 
tinuum,  to  preserve  it  vital.  First,  we  have  the 
solidarite  of  a  people,  race  or  culture.  This  ele- 
ment can  be  observed  at  its  tensest  to-day  in 
France.  When  the  luckless  Bazaine,  after  the 
surrender  of  Metz,  came  before  the  court-martial, 
he  pleaded  in  extenuation,  that  the  government  had 
fallen,  and  that  no  superior  authority  remained  to 
consult.  Whereupon  the  Due  d'Aumale  replied, 
in  a  phrase  become  classical  since:  "Monsieur, 
il  y  avait  encore  La  France! ''  We  *  Anglo- 
Saxon  '  barbarians  incline  to  view  this  as  a  piece 
of  quixotry,  and  to  class  it  with  the  kindred  mani- 
festation for  art,  enunciated  by  M.  de  Biez,  as  so 
much  Gallic  folly.  "  Gray,  which  is  the  colour 
of  the  sky  in  France,  is  also  the  colour  of  truth  it- 
self, of  that  truth  which  tempers  the  impetuosity 
of  enthusiasm  and  restrains  the  spirit  within  the 
middle  spheres  of  precise  reason."  On  the  con- 
trary, it  amounts  to  a  transcript  of  fact.  The 
French  democracy  is  nothing  if  not  institutional, 


222         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

and  offers  the  best  contemporary  illustration  of 
'  group-heredity  '  on  a  large  scale.  Second,  we 
have  individual  initiative,  variation,  modification 
—  call  it  what  you  please  —  best  seen,  possibly,  in 
English  idiosyncrasy,  and  set  forth  so  fully,  from 
the  French  standpoint,  by  M.  Demolins  in  his  sug- 
gestive work.  The  Superiority  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons. 

It  is  also  manifested,  though  after  a  very  differ- 
ent style,  in  the  confusions  due  to  American  lack 
of  organic  nationality.  An  acute  novelist  of  man- 
ners has  pictured  it  piquantly  as  follows.  The 
boys  of  a  middle-class,  well-to-do,  cultivated  fam- 
ily in  New  England  are  about  to  have  their  an- 
nual peg-top  contest  in  the  barn,  and  the  mother 
wonders  what  sort  of  crowd  they  will  fetch  from 
the  common  school :  — 

"  Going  to  the  window,  I  gazed  out;  but  my 
thoughts  were  instantly  focussed  by  the  procession 
coming  from  the  barn,  consisting  of  three  or  four 
dogs,  Richard,  Ian,  and  their  guests.  Scanning 
these  last  curiously,  I  saw  this  strange  combina- 
tion: the  son  of  the  Anglican  Catholic  clergymen; 
the  boy  of  the  Polish  shoemaker,  suspected  to  be, 
though  not  confessedly,  a  Jew;  Patsy  Nally,  whose 
father  raises  onions  and  pigs  on  the  far, side  of  the 
village;  the  son  of  the  Italian  fruit-dealer,  who 
goes  by  the  nickname  of  Toney  '  Guinea ;  '  the 
Crusiak  cripple  yclept  '  Hop  Sticks,'  whose  Hun- 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    223 

garlan  father  Is  a  flagman  at  the  turnpike  railway 
crossing;  and  Sidney  Holllster,  the  only  child  of 
the  richest  magnate  of  Oaklands  and  Bridgeton 
combined!  " 

Now,  so  far  as  complex  civilisation  Is  concerned 
^  Education '  maintains  itself  in  unstable  equili- 
brium between  these  two  factors  which,  again,  are 
cooperant  throughout  the  continuum.  Remember- 
ing this.  How  shall  we  overestimate  the  value  of 
fuller  knowledge  about  the  '  Heredity  '  element 
on  the  culture-plane?  Further,  any  solid  facts 
that  we  can  glean  must  spell  hope,  and  in  large 
letters.  For,  obviously  enough,  an  unbroken  con- 
flict between  two  tendencies  affects  the  entire  edu- 
cational process,  and  is  responsible  for  much  pres- 
ent hesitation,  not  to  say  confusion.  One  effort 
ever  bends  Itself  to  impress  the  traditional,  or  ap- 
proved culture  and  normal  aims  of  the  community 
upon  the  Individual.  So  much  so  that,  as  Ruskin 
objurgated,  "  Modern  education  for  the  most  part 
signifies  giving  people  the  faculty  of  thinking 
wrong  on  every  conceivable  subject  of  Importance 
to  them."  But,  on  the  contrary,  these  very 
achievements  of  a  society  would  die  the  death 
by  inanition  unless  vivified  by  exceptional  persons. 
Here  we  light  upon  the  reason  why  significant 
men  In  the  various  forms  of  social  activity  tend  to 
line  up  against  one  another.  On  the  whole,  we 
observe  two  antipathetic  types  —  the  formalist  and 


224         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

the  idealist.  Thus,  in  philosophy,  there  are  the 
sophists  or  professorlings  versus  the  sages;  in  re- 
ligion, the  ceremonialists  and  ecclesiastics  versus 
the  saints  and  mystics;  in  literature,  the  philologers 
versus  the  artists;  in  science,  the  methodists  versus 
the  naturalists ;  in  politics,  the  aldermen  versus  the 
statesmen;  in  education,  the  mandarins  versus  the 
humanists.  In  every  case,  the  one  side  stresses 
approved  social  achievements,  the  other  looks  for 
life  in  and  from  individuals.  And,  as  a  rule,  the 
children  of  this  world  hold  the  children  of  light  in 
bondage,  to  the  bedevilment  of  long-suffering  hu- 
manity. For,  the  higher  a  thing  is,  the  less  likely 
its  success.  Its  appeal  flies  over  —  or,  as  often, 
through  —  the  heads  of  the  average. 

The  raison  d'etre  of  '  Education  '  may  be  defined 
as  the  development  of  intelligence;  that  is,  to  lead 
man  to  discover  a  stable  order  in  his  own  spiritual 
nature  and  in  his  relations  with  his  kind.  All  that 
subserves  this  end  may  count  as  good  relatively, 
the  rest  as  bad  or,  at  best,  superfluous.  For,  as 
Spinoza  has  it,  in  a  very  wise  document:  "  Before 
all  things,  a  means  must  be  devised  for  improving 
the  understanding  and  purifying  it,  as  far  as  may 
be  at  the  outset,  so  that  it  may  apprehend  things 
without  error,  and  in  the  best  possible  way."  But 
the  individual  cannot  compass  this  great  aim  of 
himself,  he  must  use  the  heritage  wrung  from  Na- 
ture by  universal  experience.     Nevertheless,  and 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    225 

inevitably,  an  Individual  must  accomplish  this  — 
abstract  ideas  are  not  found  energising  down  our 
avenues.  So,  from  this  standpoint,  the  educa- 
tional problem  may  be  stated  as  the  unification  of 
social  achievement  with  individual  initiative.  No- 
body can  fail  to  see  that,  in  one  aspect  of  it,  this  is 
just  the  problem  of  '  Heredity '  and  variations, 
or  modifications.  Institutions  —  the  school  a  fair 
representative  —  tend  to  become  static,  and  so  to 
treat  men  as  means  rather  than  as  ends.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  dynamic  power  of  individuality 
alone  possesses  virtue  to  Inoculate  the  old  forms 
with  the  asepsis  of  well-being.  We  must  remem- 
ber that  those  persons  who  nurture  the  best  in  the 
group  are  "  nearly  always  superior,  for  the  pur- 
pose in  hand,  to  the  average  capacity  of  its  mem- 
bers." How  far  we  miss  a  solution  of  this  funda- 
mental question  may  be  gathered  from  a  pro- 
nouncement by  one  of  our  foremost  biologists. 

'*  It  would  be  an  Interesting  subject  to  debate 
whether  we  could  nurture  such  a  man;  whether  a 
Darwin,  were  he  entered  at  a  Columbia,  a  Har- 
vard, a  Princeton,  could  develop  mentally  as 
Charles  Darwin  did  at  Cambridge  in  1827.  I 
believe  that  conditions  for  the  favourable  nurture 
of  such  a  mind  are  not  with  us.  They  are,  repose, 
time  for  continuous  thought,  respect  for  the  man 
of  brains  and  of  Individuality  and  of  such  peculiar 
tastes  as  Darwin  displayed  in  his  avidity  for  col- 


226         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

lecting  beetles,  freedom  from  mental  convention, 
general  sympathy  with  nature  and,  above  all,  ar- 
dour in  the  world  of  ideas.  If  the  genial  mind 
cannot  find  the  kindred  mind,  it  cannot  develop. 
Many  American  school  and  college  men  are 
laughed  out  of  the  finest  promptings  of  their  na- 
tures. In  short  I  believe  our  intellectual  environ- 
ment would  be  distinctly  against  a  young  Darwin 
of  to-day." 

We  teachers,  oppressed  by  our  Institutionalism, 
too  often  succumb  to  a  defect,  noted  also  in  the 
Darwin  connection,  and  right  caustically,  by  the 
President  of  the  New  York  Academy  of  Sciences. 
"  It  happened  merely,  that  what  most  of  his  teach- 
ers were  prepared  to  impart  he  was  not  consti- 
tuted to  receive ;  and  so  one  of  the  acutest  observ- 
ers the  world  has  ever  known  was  thought  to  be 
inattentive  and  unreceptive.  During  all  the  school 
days  of  his  childhood  .  .  .  not  only  were  his  su- 
perb gifts  wholly  unrecognised,  but  no  attempt  was 
ever  made  to  find  out  if  he  had  any  such  gifts. 
.  .  .  The  one  ceaseless  effort  of  his  schoolmasters 
was  to  crowd  him  into  the  common  mould." 

How  long  will  these  things  be  ?  How  long  will 
we  rest  satisfied  smugly  with  a  mechanical  system 
calculated  to  drag  the  average  man  up  to  a  very 
average  level  of  average  social  competence,  and 
neglect  vital  energies  of  the  hidden  spiritual  life? 
How  long  will  we  confuse  a  certain  "  breathless- 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    227 

ness  of  effort  "  with  "  quiet  and  assured  power  "  ? 
In  this  respect  we  have  still  to  confront  a  most 
troublesome  problem  of  method:  How  can  the 
best  that  the  continuum  affords  be  re-impressed 
upon  individuals  without  undue  danger  to  their 
Initiative  ?  Solve  it,  and  you  grasp  a  most  specific 
hope.  Moreover,  another  problem  lurks  close  by. 
It  relates  to  the  question  of  educational  values, 
and  might  be  put  thus :  How  can  we  keep  the  aver- 
age man  in  the  stream  of  the  continuum  and,  at  the 
same  time,  system  notwithstanding,  humanise  him 
specifically?  Beyond  doubt,  we  must  exert  tire- 
less effort  to  naturalise  all  citizens  in  the  main  me- 
dium of  our  civilisation.  But  this  culture,  as  we 
assert  in  our  too  frequent  fits  of  vainglory,  looks 
to  the  future  for  its  portion.  Likely  enough, 
things  may  so  run,  but  upon  one  condition  only. 
Exceptional  Individuals  must  serve  themselves 
bearers  of  the  dawn  that  is  to  the  noon  that  Is  to 
be.  Schools  for  the  deficient  we  have  —  a  tribute 
to  our  pitifulness;  schools  for  apprenticeship  to  our 
familiar  arcs  of  vocation  we  have,  and  to  spare  — 
a  tribute  to  our  practical  adroitness.  But,  where 
are  our  schools  for  the  efficient,  for  the  ten  right- 
eous men  who,  peradventure,  will  save  the  city? 
Echo  answers,  Where?  —  a  tribute  to  our  Incor- 
rigible lack  of  foresight.  "  The  trouble  with  us 
Is  the  prevalence  of  a  sprawling,  gossiping  self- 
content  that  does  not  know  or  care  whether  such 


228         THE  ANARCHIST  IDKAL 

things  as  manners,  art,  and  literature  exist  or  not." 
We  tend  to  shout  for  joy  as  we  hand  munificent 
endowments  to  that  most  deceptive  species  of  rot 
—  dry-rot.  But  we  have  evolved  no  scheme  for 
the  education  and  selection  of  the  initiative  that 
can  be  bestowed  upon  us  only  by  the  higher  Initi- 
ates. That  is,  we  have  never  so  much  as  thought 
about  one  entire  half  of  the  '  Heredity  '  problem. 
We  starve  the  Idealist,  because  we  cannot  detect 
Immediate  dollars  bulging  in  his  jeans.  Our 
schools  are  common!  This  indicates  at  once  their 
besetting  sin  and  their  constant  opportunity.  For, 
*  Education,'  if  it  rise  to  the  height  of  its  mission, 
must  have  concern,  not  merely  with  equality  of  in- 
struction at  the  moment,  but  also  with  quality  of 
manhood  on  the  morrow.  Its  raw  material,  while 
formal  and  fiscal,  on  one  side,  cannot  but  be  organic 
and  racial  on  another. 

Hence,  I  live  In  good  hope  that,  when  the  facts 
of  '  Heredity '  become  generalised  on  the  edu- 
cational level,  when,  in  particular,  we  command 
some  valid  knowledge  of  the  laws  peculiar  to  the 
soclo-psychological  plane,  especially  in  Its  wonder- 
ful '  lifts,'  the  causes  of  our  present  discontents 
may  come  within  the  bounds  of  diagnosis.  The 
humanist,  panoplied  In  the  research  we  have  be- 
stowed upon  everything  except  ourselves  and  our 
creations,  will  then  be  in  position  to  announce  a 
new    commandment:  Equality    to    the    equal,    in- 


HEREDITY  AND  EDUCATION    229 

equality  to  the  unequal,  and  all  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  larger  whole.  Such  a  law,  as  I  humbly 
think,  roots  in  the  nature  of  the  case.  For,  as 
one  serene,  sweet  master  has  noticed  and  said, 
"  All  human  culture,  spiritual  as  well  as  natural, 
hangs  upon  inequality  of  souls." 


f. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  IN  THE  UNITED 
STATES 

To  be  educated  by  the  best  intelli- 
gence and  the  best  morality  of  our  age, 
this  is  freedom,  this  is  life. 

IS  It  possible  to  convey  to  the  untravelled  Eng- 
lishman a  definite  impression  of  the  univer- 
sity as  it  functions  in  the  United  States  un- 
der the  special  conditions  bequeathed  by  his- 
tory, and  modified  by  contemporary  society?  I 
place  this  question  in  the  fore-front,  partly  because 
it  sums  the  attempt  I  am  about  to  make,  partly 
because  I  doubt  whether  any  picture  can  reproduce, 
for  a  complete  stranger,  the  fact  in  its  precise 
truth.  At  all  events,  it  hints  my  difficulties,  and 
may  therefore  serve  to  palliate  my  shortcomings. 
Contrasted  types  as  Oxford  and  Glasgow  are, 
mediaevalism  developed  both.  And  the  mediaeval 
flavour  tends  to  persist.  Does  not  Birmingham 
confess  herself  the  daughter  of  Glasgow? 
Thanks  to  propinquity,  is  she  able  to  escape  in- 
fluences from  Oxford?  Now,  although  Harvard 
was  founded  when  Charles  I.  sat  on  the  throne, 

230 


W|       THE  UNIVERSITY  231 

when  Locke  and  Bunyan  and  Dryden  were  small 
boys,  no  mediaeval  society  bore  her,  and,  within 
the  compass  of  a  generation,  she  has  departed 
completely  from  her  once  form,  largely  from  her 
once  ideal.  The  difficulty,  then  (and  it  cannot  be 
urged  too  often  or  too  strongly),  of  forcing  the 
Englishman  to  understand,  proceeds  from  insist- 
ent contrasts  of  environment,  with  the  endless 
ramifications  attendant. 

The  needs  of  the  sects  or,  as  Americans  call 
them,  religious  societies,  presided  over  the  birth 
of  the  early  colleges.  Harvard,  Yale,  Princeton, 
King's  (now  Columbia)  arose  to  supply  the  com- 
mon demand  for  an  educated  ministry.  Of 
course,  one  can  trace  a  relic  of  mediaevalism  here. 
Time  was  when  the  *  clerk '  alone  required 
'  higher  '  education.  The  English,  their  luckless 
Education  Bill  —  which  says  nothing  about  edu- 
cation —  still  in  fresh  memory,  can  remind  them- 
selves how  this  past,  often  deemed  dead  and  bur- 
ied, continues  to  disturb  the  present.  Why  should 
the  clergy,  rather  than  an  expert  lay  profession, 
train  the  youth?  Mediaeval  society  holds  the  re- 
ply: one  class  possessed  a  monopoly  of  learning 
then.  And  notwithstanding  numerous  influences 
hostile  to  such  tendencies,  a  parallel  condition  se- 
cured long  lease  of  life  in  the  United  States.  So 
late  as  1850  the  great  majority  of  the  graduates 
in  Arts  from  Yale  were  destined  to  the  Christian 


232         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

ministry.  In  so  far  forth,  therefore,  the  trivium 
or  qiiadrivium  ruled  the  curriculum;  and  the  pro- 
portion of  *  reverends '  on  the  staff  Indicated 
where  the  college  expected  to  find  competent  teach- 
ers. So  immense  has  been  the  change  that,  to-day, 
a  majority  of  Yale  bachelors  go  Into  business, 
while,  In  my  own  university,  with  a  staff  of  420, 
but  three  own  the  title  '  reverend,'  and  I  greatly 
doubt  whether  one-third  of  their  colleagues  are 
even  aware  of  these  clerical  antecedents.  Obvi- 
ously, then,  the  American  university,  seeing  that  it 
dates  from  1636  (Harvard),  possesses  a  his- 
tory and,  within  this  history,  remarkable  transi- 
tions have  occurred.  Accordingly,  we  must  look 
back  for  a  moment. 

( I )  English  example  and  ecclesiastical  organ- 
isation moulded  the  young  university  in  America. 
To  be  quite  plain,  there  was  no  university,  but  a 
single  college,  of  the  Oxford  or  Cambridge  pat- 
tern, ruled  by  a  president  and  fellows  (names  still 
retained  in  some  eastern  institutions,  but  standing 
now  for  nothing  quite  like  their  English  ancestry, 
wherein  the  old  tradition  has  been  preserved  more 
continuously) .  It  had  few  teachers, —  ten  or  a 
dozen, —  and  few  students,  three  hundred  being 
an  extreme  limit.  It  conformed  to  clerical  (usu- 
ally In  the  sense  of  dissenting)  standards,  shaped 
Its  pupils  on  intense,  often  narrow,  lines,  and,  on 
the  whole,  remained  in  seclusion,  nay,  unspotted 


THE  UNIVERSITY  233 

from  the  gross  world  beyond.^  Briefly,  it  repre- 
sented low  living  and  high  thinking,  not,  however 
thinking  in  an  intellectual,  but  in  a  spiritual  sense, 
and  this  quasi  puritanical.  Further,  strange  as  it 
may  seem, —  for  seven  generations  import  enor- 
mous alterations  in  the  human  affairs  of  a  new 
land, —  this  species  of  establishment  maintained 
itself,  unchanged  substantially,  till  the  third  quar- 
ter of  the  nineteenth  century.  My  colleague,  the 
late  Dr.  B.  A.  Hinsdale,  in  his  day  the  foremost 
authority  on  the  history  of  education  in  the  United 
States,  told  me  that,  at  the  time  of  the  War  of  the 
Rebellion,  there  were  but  two  universities  in  the 
United  States  —  Virginia  and  Michigan.  Vir- 
ginia (now  happily  rehabilitated)  went  to  pieces 
after  the  war;  men  are  still  alive  who  remember 
Michigan  so  far  conformed  to  the  sectarian  college 
that  chairs  were  '  passed  round  '  in  turn  to  ap- 
proved representatives  of  the  prominent  religious 
denominations;  and,  at  a  dire  moment,  theological 
rancour  came  nigh  wrecking  the  university.     But, 

1  In  my  judgment,  it  is  of  the  first  importance  that  two  men, 
each  of  whom  will  leave  a  great  university  as  his  monument, — 
a  unique  opportunity  uniquely  taken, —  should  set  down  their 
recollections  of  their  college  training,  and  compare  this  with  the 
dominant  ideals  of  the  splendid  foundations  that  they  have  in 
large  measure  created.  We  need  the  reflections  of  Emeritus 
President  Angell  upon  Brown  College,  as  it  was  in  the  forties  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  contrasted  with  the  twentieth  century 
University  of  Michigan ;  equally,  we  need  the  reflections  of 
Emeritus  President  Eliot  upon  the  Harvard  College  of  his 
youth  compared  with  Harvard  University  as  he  has  made  her. 


234         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

even  admitting  these  two,  the  rest  were  small  col- 
leges of  the  kind  described  above.  Thus,  the  jirst 
point  to  be  grasped  by  the  Englishman  is,  that  the 
present  university  in  the  United  States  happens  to 
have  sprouted  since  1870. 

(2)  Nor  does  the  tale  close  even  with  a  con- 
sideration so  startling.  The  early  colleges  re- 
sponded, not  merely  to  ecclesiastical,  but  to  eco- 
nomic stress.  The  States  of  the  young  Republic, 
while  still  In  the  gristle,  found  the  bare  main- 
tenance of  civil  functions  enough  ado.  Moreover, 
as  in  older  countries  at  that  time,  the  supreme  sig- 
nificance of  education  for  the  efficiency  of  the  en- 
tire body  politic  had  not  been  realised.  Thus,  not 
the  State  and  its  resources  In  general  taxation,  but 
the  self-sacrifice  of  groups  and  individuals  within 
it,  founded  and  nursed  these  nascent  homes  of 
learning.  But  yesterday  the  patent  absurdity,  of 
a  great  modern  university  governed  by  "  Fourteen 
Congregational  Ministers  of  Connecticut,"  was 
mitigated.  Nevertheless,  time  out  of  mind,  these 
ministers  and  their  people  had  laid  their  gift  upon 
the  altar,  and  to  them,  in  all  justice,  control  be- 
longed at  the  outset.  His  appropriations  for  non- 
conformist seminaries  (which  do  not  affect  the  uni- 
versity question)  aside,  recollection  fails  the  Eng- 
lishman of  a  similar  contingency.  So  he  must 
realise,  as  a  second  point,  differentiating  the 
United  States,  that  in  a  sparsely  settled  continent, 


THE  UNIVERSITY  235 

with  few  manufactures  or  other  resources,  commu- 
nities within  the  State,  rather  than  the  government, 
originated  and  tended  the  first  colleges,  and  that 
religious  bodies  alone  enjoyed  strength  or  devel- 
oped interest  equal  to  the  task.  Straitened,  crude, 
even  reactionary  as  these  beginnings  may  appear 
to  us  now,  they  embody  a  heroic  story  of  hardship 
borne  for  an  Ideal,  and  borne  cheerfully  —  a  wit- 
ness to  that  inner  eye  which  saw,  and  seeing, 
aroused  motive  to  build  what  was  intended  con- 
sciously to  be  a  civitas  Dei,  a  testimony  to  the 
spiritual,  if  in  a  dogmatic  theological  aspect.  It 
may  aid  understanding  if  I  add  that  the  analogue 
to  this  spirit,  native  in  the  Motherland,  is  exempli- 
fied in  the  perfervidum  ingenium  Scotorum,  where- 
by the  Scot  has  seized  power  within  the  British 
Empire  so  entirely  disproportionate  to  his  numbers 
and  his  material  resources.  Sir  Henry  Reichel  in- 
forms me  that,  for  a  generation,  something  similar 
has  been  afoot  in  Wales. 

(3)  But,  once  more,  what  happened  in  the  New 
England  States  two  centuries  ago  has  been  hap- 
pening west  of  the  Alleghanles  ever  since.  As 
population  pursued  the  setting  sun,  the  conditions 
once  peculiar  to  the  Atlantic  seaboard  migrated 
also.  Hence  an  immense  system  of  '  higher  * 
education,  organised  and  subsidised  by  the  various 
churches,  spread  everywhere.  In  the  four  North 
Central  States  —  Ohio,  Illinois,  Indiana,  and  Iowa 


236         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

—  more  than  one  hundred  institutions  exist  char- 
tered to  confer  the  degree  of  A.B.  Of  these, 
ninety  per  cent,  at  least  sprang  from  religious  as- 
sociations ;  and  while  some  few,  persuaded  by  Car- 
negie pensions,  now  profess  to  have  discarded  sec- 
tarian bias,  all  retain  many  birth-marks.  For  it  is 
useless  to  disguise  the  plain  fact  that  they  do  not 
contribute  a  single  member  to  the  comparatively 
small  class  which  an  American  would  designate 
the  '  great  universities.'  Hence  follows  the  third 
point  to  be  sensed  by  the  Englishman.  Thanks 
to  the  historical  and  economic  causes,  suggested 
synoptically  above,  more  than  six  hundred  and 
thirty  foundations  in  the  United  States  are 
chartered  to  confer  the  degree  of  A.B.  The  vast 
majority  of  them  had  origin  in  sectarian  sources 

—  Baptist,  Disciples,  Lutheran,  Methodist,  Pres- 
byterian, and  so  on  in  a  long  list ;  they  still  revert 
to  the  type  represented  by  Yale  and  Princeton  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  I  have  heard  a 
prominent  educationist  call  them  "  frauds  on  the 
public."  I  beg  to  dissent.  Their  service  in  keep- 
ing the  lamp  of  education  alight  in  waste  places 
cannot  well  be  exaggerated.  Besides,  even  if 
their  intellectual  work  be  oftentimes  shabby,  occa- 
sionally pretentious  almost  to  the  point  of  misrep- 
resentation, I  think  some  of  them  can  render  ef- 
fective assistance  still  under  our  unique  conditions. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  237 

Yet,  doing  them  every  justice,  they  eliminate  them- 
selves when  the  question  of  "  the  university  In  the 
United  States  "  comes  under  review.  For,  in  a 
current  American  colloquialism,  so  quaint  to  Eng- 
lish ears,  they  are  "  schools."  To  a  modicum  of 
Latin  and  Greek,  which  would  seem  rudimentary 
and,  moreover,  rough,  to  a  fourth  form  master  In 
an  English  Public  School,  they  add  mathematics, 
history,  English  literature,  political  economy,  a  lit- 
tle philosophy,  Immunised  by  copious  Injections  of 
theological  antitoxin,  and  so  forth.  Their  spirit 
possesses  little  or  nothing  In  common  with  the  pur- 
suit of  truth  for  the  sake  of  truth.  The  arriere 
pensee  of  dogmatic  sentiment,  in  life  no  less  than 
in  Intellect,  sets  their  perspective.  And,  as  I  un- 
derstand the  matter,  this  attitude  consorts  with  the 
desires  of  those  whose  Interest  It  is  to  maintain 
them.  As  Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale  has  said: 
**  The  colleges  have  been  endowed  and  carried  on 
very  largely  under  ecclesiastical  auspices.  This 
has  frequently  come  out  In  absolute  absurdity,  for 
there  are  now  colleges  in  the  United  States  where 
a  man  may  not  teach  the  difference  between  the 
optative  and  subjunctive  moods  in  the  Greek  lan- 
guage if  he  Is  not  sound  as  to  the  inspiration  of  the 
book  of  Jonah,  or  as  to  the  government  of  the 
church  In  New  Padua."  Their  function,  there- 
fore, must  not  be  confounded  with  that  of  the  uni- 


238         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

versity  as  understood  In  Germany  or  France,  In 
Britain,  or  In  the  universities  proper  of  the  United 
States.2 

These  three  Introductory  points  made  clear,  we 
may  proceed  to  grapple  with  our  original  question. 

Towards  the  middle  of  last  century  Americans 
began  to  frequent  the  German  universities,  at  first 
by  twos  and  threes,  then  by  scores, —  some  forty 
could  be  counted  at  Heidelberg  In  1864,^ — finally 
by  hundreds.     If  from  early  colonial  days  till  the 

2  It  is  well-nigh  impossible  to  bring  home  to  an  English 
university  man  the  '  kind  of  thing '  implied.  But,  teste,  here 
is  the  letter-head  spread  atop  a  communication  from  the  office 
of  a  certain  'College  President': — "Christian  University. 
For  Ladies  and  Gentlemen.  College  of  Arts  and  Sciences.  Col- 
lege of  the  Bible.  Business  College.  Conservatory  of  Music. 
Correspondence  Bible  School.  Faculty  Strong.  Instruction 
Thorough.  Curriculum  Full.  Expenses  Light."  And  here  are 
a  few  specimens  of  questions  actually  submitted  on  a  printed 
form  to  the  unhappy  wretches  who  aspire  to  appointment  as 
*  professors  '  in  another  precious  '  college  ' : — "  On  about  how 
many  days  in  the  past  year  was  unable  to  do  full  work? 
On  about  how  many  days  in  the  past  year  was  medicine  taken? 
How  long  a  Christian?  Has  taught  Sunday  School?  Has  led 
Prayer  Meetings?  Uses  wine  or  liquor?  Uses  tobacco?  Be- 
longs to  a  Secret  Society?  Who  can  testify  to  success  in 
Christian  work?"  "Christian,"  as  here  used,  means  in  effect 
a  species  of  Plymouth  Brother.  I  am  well  aware  that  English- 
men will  accuse  me  of  exaggeration.  I  therefore  hasten  to 
add  that  these  elegant  extracts  are  culled  from  original  docu- 
ments in  my  possession;  and  to  say  that  I  could  a  tale  unfold 
farther!  Of  course,  to  a  stranger,  the  gulf  between  this  kind 
of  thing  and  the  great  universities  is  so  tremendous  as  to  be 
(practically  inconceivable.  Yet,  from  Harvard  to  this  circle 
of  the  Inferno  there  is  a  gradation  of  descent.  Le  sage  entend 
a  demi  mot! 


THE  UNIVERSITY  239 

discovery  of  the  Far  West  (say  1870),  the  United 
States  remained  tutelary  to  England,  alike  in  cul- 
ture and  education;  thereafter,  in  a  special  intel- 
lectual or  academic  sense,  a  second  colonial  period 
appeared,  Germany  standing  sponsor.  This  new 
movement  followed,  then  paralleled,  a  native 
change.  As  early  as  1765  a  school  of  medicine 
had  grown  up  alongside  Franklin's  college  at  Phil- 
adelphia; and  by  18 17  we  find  Harvard  consist- 
ing of  the  College  (i.  e.,  Faculty  of  Arts)  together 
with  the  '*  Schools "  of  Medicine,  Divinity  and 
Law.  Thus,  on  her  own  initiative,  the  United 
States  had  contrived  to  broaden  the  original  "  Col- 
lege of  the  Liberal  Arts  "  which,  indeed,  was  al- 
ready on  its  fateful  way  to  the  present  redundant 
university.  When  German  influence  asserted  it- 
self with  the  return  of  the  beatified  Ph.D.'s,  the 
Arts  course,  proper  to  the  college,  underwent  far- 
ther extension  and  transformation.  The  inherent 
tendencies  acquired  momentum  rapidly  after  1875, 
and  at  length  swept  all  before  them  after  1895. 
During  the  stage  of  transition,  incidental  difficul- 
ties were  palliated  or  dodged  by  a  species  of  com- 
promise. The  multiplication  of  degrees  conferred 
by  the  Arts  faculty  offers  an  impressive  instance 
of  this  process.  The  old  A.B.  found  itself  at- 
tended by  three  parvenus,  as  it  were.  For,  in  this 
light,  the  Bachelor  of  Philosophy,  the  Bachelor  of 
Science,    and  the   Bachelor  of  Letters  were   re- 


240         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

garded  at  first.  Thanks  to  such  expedients,  it  was 
still  possible  to  conserve  a  systematic  course,  on  a 
basis  of  required  subjects,  and  yet  to  permit  the 
flexibility  of  choice  demanded  by  the  Intrusion  of 
new  subjects.  The  A.B.  Implied  a  classical  edu- 
cation, and  retained  primacy  both  In  academic  and 
popular  estimate.  For  Ph.B.  the  Greek  require- 
ment was  dropped,  to  be  replaced  by  a  modern 
language  (German  or  French).  For  the  B.S.  all 
classical  requirements  were  eliminated,  and  science 
(chemistry,  physics  or  biology)  was  substituted. 
For  the  B.L.  also  classical  requirements  disap- 
peared, English  and  the  modern  languages  coming 
to  bulk  large  In  the  compulsory  studies,  and  the 
degree  never  attained  much  repute;  It  was  as- 
sociated with  the  '  lame  ducks.'  Thus,  the  rapid 
extension  of  subjects  found  scope  in  a  more 
or  less  clumsy  manner,  although  traditional  dis- 
ciplines, so-called,  continued  to  enjoy  '  protection  ' 
after  a  fashion.  Plainly  this  marked  an  era  of 
unstable  equilibrium.  For,  as  subjects  multiplied 
within  the  university,  the  representatives  of  the 
A.B.  requirements,  especially  the  classics,  became 
gradually  a  minority;  while,  without  the  univer- 
sity, as  public  opinion  altered  and  as  social  pres- 
sure for  practical  and  technical  education  Increased, 
the  proven  studies  lost  their  lead  rapidly.  At  last, 
when  these  two  streams  of  tendency  joined,  the 
less  coveted  degrees  were  abolished,  and  the  B.S. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  241 

professionalised.  Then  ensued  the  full  flood  of 
the  Elective  System,  when  all  subjects  came  to 
count  equally  for  the  A.B.,  which,  as  a  result,  rep- 
resented for  a  time  anything  in  the  heavens  above, 
on  the  earth  below,  or  in  the  waters  beneath  the 
earth.  Small  wonder!  I  have  heard  tell  of  the 
President  of  a  Far  Western  university  (  !)  who 
perpetrated  the  sage  aphorism,  "  There  is  no  cul- 
ture except  agriculture."  And  a  few  months  since, 
afn  English  Public  School  boy,  who  is  reforming  an- 
other "  sage  brush  "  institution,  informed  me  that 
his  predecessor  doubted  the  culture  even  of  agricul- 
ture! 

On  the  whole,  then,  with  the  adoption  of  the 
Elective  System,  the  difference  between  the  colo- 
nial college  and  the  modern  university  might  be 
expressed  by  saying  that,  in  the  latter,  the  Arts 
degree  ceased  to  indicate  any  systematic  or  com- 
pulsory discipline.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  Fresh- 
man year,  the  undergraduate  found  his  free  feed- 
ing limited  to  subjects  which  presumably  linked 
with  his  school  curriculum.  But  liberty  existed 
even  here.  He  might  omit  Greek,  or  mathe- 
matics, or  both.  It  is  true  also,  that  English,  in 
the  sense  of  composition  and  paragraph-writing, 
was  obligatory,  and  that  pedagogy  was  imposed 
upon  prospective  teachers,  if  they  would  escape  an 
easy,  though  irksome,  State  examination.  But, 
these  restrictions  aside,  the  entire  field  of  informa- 


242         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

tlon,  from  pure  mathematics  and  nervous  anatomy 
to  "  oratory  "  and  retail  trade,  lay  open  to  the  in- 
genuous youth  without  let  or  hindrance.  I  have 
known  a  case,  not  unique  either,  where  a  student 
gained  the  A.B.  with  four-fifths  of  his  entire  un- 
dergraduate course  In  chemistry.  The  Inevitable 
result  was,  as  a  professor  of  chemistry  who  taught 
him  said,  "  he  does  not  know  chemistry."  Others, 
again,  attained  the  same  degree  without  Greek, 
Latin,  English  literature,  philosophy,  or  modern 
languages,  as  the  case  might  be.  Many  equally 
curious  possibilities  might  or  did  occur.  In  a 
word,  the  A.B.  had  become  a  routeless  omnibus. 
As  a  consequence,  a  general  movement  for  reform 
has  taken  place  within  the  last  few  years.  Ex- 
amination of  the  Arts  curricula  Imposed  at  a  score 
of  the  greater  universities  justifies  these  general 
statements.  ( i )  There  Is  a  distinct  tendency  to 
differentiate  between  the  character  of  the  work 
proper  respectively  to  the  first  two  and  the  last  two 
years.  This  implies  that  Freshmen  are  to  con- 
tinue school  studies  rather  on  a  school  than  on  a 
university  level;  that  Sophomores  (second  year 
students),  while  continuing  school  subjects,  are 
permitted  to  elect  studies  peculiar  to  the  univer- 
sity, such  as  elementary  philosophy  and  economics. 
In  short,  the  grade  of  work  proper  to  these  years 
is  what  is  known  In  the  United  States  as  "  college," 
that   Is,    part   school,    part   university.      (2)    Re- 


i 


THE  UNIVERSITY  243 

quired  work  in  foundation  subjects  —  chemistry, 
English,  a  foreign  language,  history,  philosophy, 
mathematics,  physics  and,  sometimes,  classics  — 
ought  to  be  overtaken  in  the  "  college  "  years. 
(3)  In  the  last  two  years  (Junior  and  Senior) 
real  university  work  is  introduced,  usually  on  the 
basis  of  a  Group  System.  Here  the  candidate 
chooses  a  major  subject;  to  this  he  must  devote  a 
minimum  of  one-third  or  a  maximum  of  two-thirds 
of  his  time.  Certain  minor,  or  supporting,  courses 
must  be  elected;  and  some  free  election  is  per- 
mitted. The  general  idea  is  to  ensure  concen- 
tration and,  at  the  same  time,  to  bring  the  stu- 
dent into  contact  with  the  main  realms  of  knowl- 
edge. 

From  the  English  viewpoint,  when  a  scheme  of 
this  sort  rules  the  great  universities,  the  educational 
question  pushes  itself  back  a  stage,  namely,  to  the 
secondary  schools.  Obviously,  if  they  were  or- 
ganised and  conducted  in  such  a  way  as  to  furnish 
material  sufficiently  competent,  even  this  Lernfrei- 
heit  might  operate  as  efficaciously  as  in  Germany. 
But  the  difficulty,  like  the  difference,  nucleates 
here.  All  things  considered  the  high  school  in  the 
United  States  presents  no  precise  parallel  to  cog- 
nate institutions  in  England,  Germany,  or  France. 
Furthermore,  the  American  has  adopted  and  ap- 
plied in  all  grades  of  education  the  German  idea 
peculiar  to  the  university  only,  according  to  which, 


244         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Wissenschaft  Is  its  own  reward.  Severe  examina- 
tions, competitions  and  other  forms  of  stimulus, 
so  familiar  to  the  English,  are  unknown.  It  seems 
to  have  been  forgotten  that,  outside  the  university, 
such  tests  obtain  everywhere  In  Germany.  The 
Arbiturientenexamen  has  no  analogue  In  the 
United  States,  nor  the  State  medical  and  legal  ex- 
aminations. Consequently,  not  only  is  the  Amer- 
ican school  unprepared  to  produce  the  kind  of 
student  upon  whom  the  organisation  of  the  Ger- 
man university  depends,  the  youth  whose  ascer- 
tained competence  justifies  Lernfreiheit,  but  also 
no  entrance  tests  are  imposed  comparable  In  sever- 
ity to  the  Scottish  or  the  London  Preliminary. 
Hence  the  judgments  passed  upon  the  Rhodes 
Scholars  by  their  Oxford  Tutors.  "  They  are  at- 
tractive and  attracted,  but  restless,  volatile  and 
never  educated  grundlichJ'  "  They  seldom  or 
never  settle  down  to  do  a  long  spell  of  work." 
*'  They  seem  to  me  to  lack  accuracy  and  (as  a 
rule)  the  power  of  hard  grind."  "  They  have  a 
general  knowledge,  but  have  been  taught  nothing 
very  precisely,  and  have  not  been  accustomed  to 
write  and  express  themselves  clearly  and  with  pre- 
cision. They  do  not  appear  to  study  a  subject  as 
a  whole,  as  we  do,  but,  after  attending  courses  on 
a  portion  of  a  subject,  they  appear  to  drop  that 
and  never  revise  it  again.  They  never  appear  to 
have  any  comprehensive  examination  on  the  whole 


THE  UNIVERSITY  245 

of  a  subject."  Besides,  the  goal  of  the  German 
university  is  the  doctorate,  designed  for  those 
whose  preliminary  general  education  enables  them 
to  specialise  profitably,  whereas  the  end  of  the 
American  course  is  the  A.B.,  itself  a  testimony  to 
much  the  same  general  education  presupposed  by 
the  German  university.  In  a  word,  the  teutonisa- 
tion  of  the  American  undergraduate  course  has 
so  eventuated  that  students  who  know  nothing 
thoroughly  about  a  single  subject  have  been  made 
free  to  choose  as  if  they  knew  all.  Here,  at  least, 
praise  cannot  be  perfected  out  of  the  mouths  of 
babes  and  sucklings. 

This  consequence  ensued  particularly,  some 
would  say  exclusively,  in  the  Arts  faculty.  In 
the  professional  faculties  a  hard  and  fast  system 
operates,  and  is  so  organised  that  the  undergradu- 
ate issues  informed  and  moulded  within  the  limits 
of  his  chosen  technique  —  a  philistine,  may  be, 
but  so  far  an  efficient  philistine.  The  pressure  of 
American  life  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  this; 
the  professional  "  school "  is  a  direct  prepara- 
tion for  one  or  other  of  the  careers  to  '  success,'  in 
the  American  interpretation  of  this  term.  I  ques- 
tion if  even  the  Scottish  medical  course,  a  severe 
mill,  is  so  exacting  as  the  best  American  schools 
• —  Harvard,  Johns  Hopkins,  Michigan,  Pennsyl- 
vania. In  the  same  way,  the  foremost  engineer- 
ing   schools  —  Cornell,    Massachusetts    Institute 


246         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

of  Technology,  Michigan,  Pennsylvania  —  equal 
the  European  In  continuous  demands  upon  the  un- 
dergraduate. But,  plainly,  the  Arts  faculty, 
which  means  "  the  university  "  so  largely  for  the 
Englishman,  differs  widely  from  Its  British  con- 
gener. In  what  remains  I  shall  attempt  to  punctu- 
ate this  contrast  as  clearly  as  I  can. 

At  the  outset,  let  me  repeat  the  platitude,  that 
two  types  of  university  flourish  side  by  side  in  the 
United  States.  In  the  Eastern  States  we  find  in- 
stitutions of  private  endowment  —  Harvard,  Yale, 
Johns  Hopkins,  and  so  on.  For  the  most  part, 
these  are  ancient  foundations;  they  have  been 
paralleled  recently  In  younger  communities  by 
Chicago  and  Leland  Stanford.  West  of  the  Al- 
leghanies  the  other  great  universities  were  erected 
by  State  governments,  and  are  maintained  by  pub- 
lic taxation  as  "  the  cap-stone  of  the  educational 
system."  Even  allowing  for  wide  divergence  of 
social  condition,  it  may  be  declared  at  once  that 
no  such  variation  separates  these  types  as  is  famil- 
iar In  Britain,  between  Oxford  and  Glasgow,  for 
example.  In  a  word,  the  same  general  situation 
repeats  itself  universally.  Or,  as  it  might  be  put 
otherwise,  Michigan  the  representative  State  uni- 
versity, tends  to  become  more  like  Harvard,  the 
typical  private  university,  while  Harvard  has  not 
remained  untouched  by  the  example  for  which 
Michigan    stands.     Accordingly,    local    and    tern- 


i 


THE  UNIVERSITY  247 

porary  contrasts  admitted,  one  may  assert  that  a 
dominant  trend  of  system  spreads  everywhere. 

As  a  rule,  the  American  youth  enters  the  uni- 
versity possessed  of  more  worldly  wisdom  than 
his  British  cousin,  and,  with  reference  to  practical 
life,  his  character  presents  markedly  greater  adap- 
tability. He  might  be  termed  a  boy-man.  But 
nearly  always  he  knows  no  subject  with  compar- 
able thoroughness,  and  very  rarely  has  any  equal 
body  of  systematised  information  at  immediate, 
available  command.  To  use  an  apt  phrase,  "  he 
has  never  been  put  through  the  mill."  On  en- 
trance, few  American  matriculants  could  satisfy, 
say,  the  Balliol  dons,  of  competence  to  read  for  an 
honour  degree,  and  a  distinct  majority  would  go 
down  before  the  Scottish  Leaving  Certificate  or 
the  London  Preliminary  Examinations.  On  the 
other  hand,  they  carry  an  assortment  of  Intellec- 
tual light  baggage  beyond  the  Etonian's  ken,  and 
are  decidedly  less  hampered  by  English  mauvaise 
honte  or  by  the  Dorian  self-consciousness  of  the 
Scot.  Consequently,  the  early  terms  of  residence 
pertain  rather  to  school  than  to  university  studies, 
and  the  spirit  is  accordant.  The  Freshman  "  re- 
cites "  just  as  he  did  in  his  preparatory  school. 
That  is  to  say,  he  must  keep  up  to  the  mark  day-in, 
day-out,  on  the  prescribed  "lessons,"  and  his 
"  standing  "  Is  determined  by  his  response  to  viva 
voce  examination  in  the  class-room.     Further,  as 


248         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Professor  Hart,  of  Cornell,  has  said  pointedly: 
"  From  the  day  of  his  matriculation  to  the  day  of 
his  graduation  he  is  under  surveillance  more  or 
less  intrusive,  his  attendance  is  noted  down,  his 
performances  are  graded " —  grading  means 
marked  in  the  "  instructor's "  roll-book.  Here 
one  of  the  most  striking  features  of  the  American 
university  emerges,  one,  too,  which  the  English- 
man can  realise  with  difficulty,  if  at  all.  Degrees 
do  not  depend  upon  examinations^  instituted  ad 
hoc,  but  upon  class-room  work  from  week  to  week 
throughout  the  whole  period  of  attendance.  Let 
me  attempt  an  explanation.  To  obtain  the  A.B. 
the  undergraduate  must  earn  so  many  "  hours." 
This  is  known  as  the  "  credit  system,"  and  it  op- 
erates thus.  Suppose  that  the  A.B.  represents 
one  hundred  and  twenty  *'  hours  of  credit  "  on  the 
books  of  the  university,  and  that  the  course  ex- 
tends over  four  years,  each  of  two  terms  (semes- 
ter is  the  common  American  word).  Obviously, 
to  graduate,  the  student  must  gain  fifteen  hours  in 
every  term.  He  accomplishes  this  by  selecting 
courses  which  aggregate  fifteen  hours:  say,  Eng- 
lish, four  hours;  Latin,  four  hours;  mathematics, 
four  hours;  history,  three  hours.  Accordingly, 
during  the  semester,  he  must  attend  the  English, 
Latin  and  mathematical  classes  respectively  for 
one  hour  per  day  on  four  days  of  the  week,  the 
history  class  on  three  days.     Then,  provided  that 


THE  UNIVERSITY  249 

his  daily  "  recitations,"  his  ''  reports,"  or  written 
exercises,  meet  the  standard,  and  that  at  the  end 
of  the  semester  (which  runs  about  seventeen 
weeks),  he  passes  the  "terminal"  examination 
on  the  work  of  the  class,  he  will  be  "  credited  " 
with  four  or  three  hours  in  the  several  subjects  as 
the  case  may  be;  the  same  course  cannot  be  "  cred- 
ited "  twice.  Should  he  fail,  one  of  two  things 
will  happen.  Either  he  will  be  returned  "  not 
passed,"  and  lose  all  credit  pertaining  to  the  par- 
ticular course;  or  he  will  be  set  down  ''condi- 
tioned," and  must  pass  a  supplemental  examina- 
tion at  a  set  time,  to  "  remove  his  condition."  If 
the  "  condition  "  run  more  than  a  stated  period 
(usually  a  few  months)  without  removal,  it  be- 
comes a  "  not-pass "  automatically.  When,  on 
this  plan,  the  undergraduate  has  accumulated  one 
hundred  and  twenty  "  hours  "  on  the  books  of  the 
Registrar,  he  forthwith  proceeds  to  the  A.B.  at 
the  first  Commencement.  All  degrees  in  Arts  are 
gained  in  this  way,  the  British  distinction  of  poll 
and  class  being  unknown,  except  in  certain  sub- 
jects at  Princeton. 

As  I  see  it,  the  main  objection  to  this  system 
issues  from  its  failure  to  put  any  premium,  even 
the  slightest,  upon  high  attainment  and  academic 
distinction.  Accordingly,  undergraduates  think 
of  '  university  honours  '  as  appertaining  to  of- 
ficial positions  in  student  associations,  and  the  like, 


250         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

hardly  ever  in  terms  of  intellectual  attainment. 
For  example,  here  are  the  '  university  honours  ' 
of  a  '  distinguished  '  student,  printed  in  the  list 
of  his  class,  in  a  book  issued  by  his  fellow  students 
just  previous  to  their  graduation:  "Freshman 
Glee  Club;  Smoker  Committee;  Athletic  Com- 
mittee; Senior  Reception  Committee;  Social  Com- 
mittee; Class  Football  Team;  Michigamua 
(Senior  Society)."  The  student  was  thus  'hon- 
oured '  because  he  '  made  '  these  organisations. 
In  the  same  book,  the  name  of  the  ablest  A.B. 
of  the  year  passes  absolutely  without  comment. 
Thus,  the  tendency  to  rest  content  with  a  bare 
pass  meets  all  too  favourable  environment.  Con- 
sequently, the  real  credit  for  the  pass  must  be 
viewed  as  relative  to  the  difficulty  of  securing  it 
on  the  lowest  level.  The  greatest  genius  and  the 
greatest  goose  go  forth  stamped  with  the  same 
hall-mark.  Ability  is  not  emphasised,  dullness  is 
flattered.  And  the  further  effect  upon  the  supply 
of  teachers,  particularly  to  the  secondary  schools, 
cannot  be  called  reassuring.  The  legend,  "  Only 
graduates  in  Honours  need  apply,"  so  often  in- 
scribed in  advertisements  of  vacancies  for  Eng- 
lish and  Scots  masterships,  would  be  rendered 
meaningless  by  the  "  credit  system."  •  Why  the 
university  should  be  the  sole  place  where  every 
man  is  not  rewarded  according  to  his  deserts,  re- 
mains a  mystery  to  me,  especially  as  the  Ameri- 


THE  UNIVEJ^SITY  251 

cans  are  an  eminently  practical  folk,  and  devoted 
to  education.  Once  more,  the  system  is  disad- 
vantageous because  final  for  degrees.  It  ought 
to  be  final  for  courses  in  class  only.  Having  com- 
pleted the  necessary  "  credits,"  the  candidate  ought 
to  be  subjected  to  a  special  degree  examination  of 
a  more  extensive  and  thorough  character  than  is 
possible  in  connection  with  a  mere  class  examina- 
tion. The  result  is  that  the  A.  B.  has  come  to  be 
regarded,  not  as  a  certificate  of  competence,  but 
rather  as  a  diploma  of  respectable  undergraduate- 
hood.  For  no  test  of  any  real  difficulty,  either  ex- 
tensively or  intensively,  has  been  met.  As  Mr. 
Bryce  says :  '*  At  no  point  in  his  career  is  the  stu- 
dent expected  to  submit  to  any  one  examination 
comparable,  for  the  combined  number  and  diffi- 
culty of  the  subjects  in  which  he  Is  questioned,  to 
the  final  examinations  at  Oxford  or  Cambridge." 
And  I  have  noticed  the  press — for  whose  vice 
of  exaggeration  some  deduction  must  be  allowed, 
no  doubt  —  hall  the  Oxford  entrance,  to  which  the 
Rhodes  Scholarships  candidates  are  held,  as  a 
horrible  crucifixion!  I  do  not  say  that  the 
*'  credit  system  "  Is  thoroughly  bad,  but  I  do  affirm 
that  the  astounding  disparities,  all  covered  by  one 
undifferentiating  sign,  are  too  marked  for  comfort, 
and  for  educational  safety.  Lastly,  It  is  a  serious 
defect  that  the  teachers  should  be  the  examiners. 
Better   far  to  have  independent  examiners   read 


252         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

the  papers,  adjust  passes  in  consultation  with 
the  teachers,  and  incur  entire  responsibility  for 
the  final  results.  The  teacher  ought  not  to 
be  put  in  the  position  of  playing  special  provi- 
dence —  he  is  all  too  human  for  this.  In  some 
aspects  of  it,  then,  the  "  credit  system  "  looks  sus- 
piciously like  a  conspiracy  on  the  part  of  medi- 
ocrity to  render  academic  circumstances  as  favour- 
able as  possible  to  such  standards  as  it  can  meet 
with  comparative  safety. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  flexibility  of  the  plan  Is 
marvellous,  and  accommodates  admirably  a  com- 
munity where  social  changes  are  rapid  and  start- 
ling. Nevertheless,  it  produces  one  internal  evil 
of  no  little  magnitude,  to  which  President  Hadley, 
of  Yale,  adverted,  in  his  1906  Report,  though 
rather  in  a  different  connection.  In  the  first  and 
second  years  of  the  academic  course  not  a  little 
work  is  included  that  can  be  overtaken  with  suf- 
ficient efficiency  by  "  instructors  "  {Angelice 
tutors)  who  possess  few  claims  to  the  ability  and 
distinction  requisite  In  a  university  professor.  The 
school  teacher  type  —  that  of  the  average  Board 
school  in  England  —  thus  gains  entrance  Into  the 
Arts  faculty,  bringing  his  undesirable  associations. 
And,  If  an  "  Instructor"  remain  in  this' grade  of 
service  long  enough,  very  possibly,  by  simple  lapse 
of  time,  he  may  receive  promotion  to  the  profes- 
soriate; If  the  head  of  department  be  himself  a 


THE  UNIVERSITY  253 

weakling,  he  will  recommend  this  promotion  al- 
most certainly.  It  thus  happens  that  men  attain 
the  chair  sometimes  who  are  fit  to  be  no  more  than 
school  drill-sergeants,  and  they  inoculate  the  en- 
tire academic  body  with  their  baleful  tendencies. 
So,  one  occasionally  finds  sitting  on  the  same  sen- 
ate, and  exercising  the  same  powers  over  high  aca- 
demic policy,  scholars  equal  to  the  best  anywhere, 
and  other  Individuals  whose  presence  on  an  Eng- 
glish  or  German  university  staff  would  be  almost 
inconceivable.  Now  this  is  only  to  acknowledge 
that,  whether  for  student  or  teacher,  the  system 
has  paid  a  price  hitherto  for  its  adaptation  to  the 
peculiar  conditions.  My  personal  impression  is 
that  this  presence  of  the  pedagogue  personnel  and 
ideals  presents  one  of  the  practical  problems  fated 
to  be  met  soon  by  the  university  in  the  United 
States.  It  proves  the  identity  of  university  with 
school  work,  and  as,  by  an  Inevitable  process,  the 
former  becomes  more  differentiated,  the  overlap- 
ping must  cease  for  ever.  Meanwhile,  it  consti- 
tutes a  constant  source  of  friction,  as  Dean  after 
Dean  has  informed  me. 

To  render  our  picture  more  concrete,  other  in- 
stances of  the  tendency  towards  the  persistence  of 
a  school  atmosphere  may  be  cited.  The  manage- 
ment of  athletics,  of  student  publications,  of  the 
funds  of  undergraduate  associations,  and  so  forth, 
by  committees  of  the  instructional  force,  furnish 


254         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

cases  In  point.  As  straws  serve  to  show  how  the 
wind  blows,  the  Englishman  will  sense  at  once  that 
the  climate  is  very  different  from  that  prevalent  in 
his  own  universities.  I  may  add  that  it  consorts 
with  a  trait  characteristic  of  general  society  in  the 
United  States.  Individuals  tend  to  seek  a  level, 
which  is  not  that  of  the  most  distinguished  intel- 
lectually, nor  of  those  who  have  differentiated 
their  special  originality.  Personal  idiosyncrasy,  so 
marked  in  British  academic  and  political  life,  finds 
little  elbow  room  and  no  encouragement.  I  could 
adduce  several  astonishing,  almost  incredible,  cases 
of  this  drawn  from  my  own  experience  as  a  pro- 
fessor. 

The  '*  professional  schools  "  have  been  noticed 
already.  It  should  be  mentioned  further,  that 
they  stand  in  a  peculiar  relation  to  the  Arts  faculty, 
or  may  so  stand.  The  absence  of  an  honour  A.B. 
in  mathematical  and  physical  science,  in  jurispru- 
dence, in  chemistry  or  biology,  in  Hebrew  and 
oriental  languages,  or  in  theology,  operates  to  this 
end.  Thanks  to  the  public  educational  system,  the 
American  student  is  unable  to  begin  his  university 
career  soon  enough.  If  he  spend  four  years  in 
Arts,  and  another  three  or  four  years  in  a  profes- 
sional faculty,  he  may  very  well  reach  the  age  of 
twenty-five  to  twenty-seven  ere  he  can  take  the 
first  step  in  the  work-a-day  world.  This  difficulty 
h^s  caused  some  searching  of  heart  in  the  past 


THE  UNIVERSITY  255 

fifteen  years.  Proposals  have  arisen  to  limit  the 
Arts  course  to  three  or  even  two  years,  and  the 
former  alternative  has  adherents.  As  a  general 
rule,  however,  another  plan  has  commended  itself 
to  the  authorities,  so  drawn  that  a  candidate  may 
obtain  both  the  Arts  and  the  professional  degree  in 
six  years.  Thus,  for  certain  cognate  subjects, 
*'  hours  "  count  in  two  faculties,  with  the  result  that 
so  much  Arts  "  credit "  goes  to  Law  or  Medicine, 
so  much  legal  or  medical  "  credit  "  receives  recog- 
nition for  the  A.B.  While  of  clear  value  as  a 
useful  makeshift  in  organisation,  this  arrangement 
disrupts  general  education,  by  restriction  of  possible 
elections,  and  by  determining  beforehand  many  of 
the  subjects  to  be  studied.  In  other  words,  a  boy 
turns  himself  into  a  professional  long  ere  he  has 
made  such  a  voyage  of  self-discovery  as  to  be  able 
to  tell  what  he  can  pursue  for  his  own  highest  de- 
velopment, nay,  he  forestalls  such  a  voyage.  For 
example,  of  the  large  numbers  who  now  elect  his- 
tory or  political  economy,  many  follow  these  sub- 
jects, not  because  the  studies  exert  any  charm  over 
them,  but  because  they  offer  an  avenue  to  a  com- 
mercial career,  or  to  the  combined  Arts-Law  de- 
grees at  the  end  of  six  years.  To  some  extent  the 
same  holds  true  on  the  medical  and  engineering 
sides  of  what  ought  to  be  pure  science.  One 
could  imagine,  without  great  difficulty,  a  success- 
ful staff  in  physics,  on  an  Arts  faculty,  without  ^ 


256         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

single  physicist  —  electric  engineers,  et  hoc  genus 
omne,  would  serve!  A  parallel  tendency  mani- 
fests itself,  particularly  among  women  students, 
at  the  co-educational  universities.  Many  of  them 
—  like  some  few  men  —  intend  to  teach  in  pri- 
mary and  secondary  schools  under  local  Boards. 
Thus,  their  elections  are  determined  largely,  not 
by  the  desire  for  the  kind  of  education  calculated 
to  train  and  transform  their  talents,  or  to  endue 
them  with  the  culture  so  indispensable  in  the 
teacher,  but  by  the  subjects  which  they  propose  to 
teach  school  fashion.  And  this  movement  is  in- 
tensified to  fatuity,  as  many  think,  by  the  intrusion 
of  pedagogy  into  the  Arts  course.  The  prepara- 
tion in  this  subject  is  no  less  professional  than  in 
Law  or  Medicine, —  with  no  solid  body  of  pro- 
fessional knowledge,  unfortunately  —  and  has  its 
proper  place  either  in  the  Graduate  Department, 
or  in  a  professional  "  school."  Scholars  find  the 
consequences  exasperating,  sometimes  ludicrous, 
were  they  not  so  pitiable.  In  effect  the  university 
is  set  to  compete  with  the  normal  schools,  and  quasi 
science  obtains  the  time  that  should  be  spent  upon 
the  real  article.  Thus,  in  every  direction  one  wit- 
nesses steady  adulteration  of  the  Arts  faculty  by 
professionalism  and,  pari  passu,  a  gradual  eclipse 
of  the  true  academic  ideal  —  the  production  of 
such  and  such  a  type  of  humane  being,  differen- 
tiated by  a  crystalline  intellectual  sensibility  or  in- 


THE  UNIVERSITY  257 

sight.  Moreover,  the  general  ethos  of  the  na- 
tion moves  decidedly  in  this  direction.  Vocation 
—  the  man  as  a  tool  —  crowds  out  avocation  — 
the  man  as  a  humanised  being.  Culture  for  the 
sake  of  culture  has  fallen  upon  evil  days;  knowl- 
edge for  use,  and  for  immediate  use  at  that,  ag- 
grandises itself  by  leaps  and  bounds.  Pursuits 
multiply,  while  personalities  decay  or  even  disap- 
pear. 

What,  then,  does  all  this  mean?  It  implies, 
first,  that  society  in  the  United  States  demands, 
and  obtains,  an  education  sufficient  to  equip  many 
of  its  members  for  citizenship  in  such  a  way  that 
they  can  conduct  their  affairs  with  the  efficiency  of 
self-respecting  folk,  and  take  part  in  the  battle  of 
life  with  an  intelligence  and  mobility  impossible 
to  most  Europeans  of  relative  social  rank.  It 
implies,  second,  that  society  demands,  and  ob- 
tains, excellent  facilities  for  fitting  any  of  its  mem- 
bers, who  so  desire,  to  do  specific  work,  more  par- 
ticularly that  tending  to  the  successful  exploitation 
of  the  resources  present  in  an  undeveloped  con- 
tinent; to  do  work  that  places  a  man  in  position 
to  be  of  immediate  practical  use  to  the  community, 
whether  in  medicine,  dentistry,  invention,  en- 
gineering, law,  commerce,  mining,  agriculture,  and 
the  like.  So  far,  so  good.  But  it  implies, 
thirdly,  that  when  individuals  possessing  special 
talent  or  evidencing  unusual  Geist  try  to  be  some- 


258         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

thing  more  than  their  fellows,  they  find  them- 
selves inhibited,  partly  by  less  excellent  facilities, 
and  partly  by  the  inevitable  inertia  of  society  as  a 
whole  embodied,  as  it  always  is,  in  unconscious 
conventions.  Consequently,  the  most  promising 
spirits  are  too  often  sucked  into  the  vortex  of  prac- 
tical affairs,  where  the  ceaseless  round  of  the  mo- 
ment kills  personal  development,  except  along  nar- 
row lines  dictated  by  the  daily  circumstances;  or, 
having  achieved  the  added  ten  talents  up  the  hill 
of  unnecessary  difficulty,  young  men  find  social  ad- 
justment slow,  being  left  without  obvious  function 
to  perform  or  place  to  fill,  and  unable  to  descry  a 
congenial  environment.  The  admirable  technico- 
professional  training  effects  the  one  result,  the 
craze  for  '  safe  '  men  produces  the  other.  Briefly, 
individualised  development  of  the  intense  per- 
sonal sort  wanes,  because  society,  such  is  its 
present  condition,  does  much  —  all  unconsciously, 
of  course  —  to  discourage  its  nurture.  Emerson 
noted  this,  in  his  address.  The  American  Scholar, 
so  long  ago  as  1837.  "  The  class  which  with  its 
adherents  has  so  long  governed  England,"  as  Mr. 
Hillaire  Belloc  wrote  so  acutely,  "  the  class  which 
gives  all  their  spirit  to  our  two  universities,  the 
Houses  of  Parliament  and  the  learned  professions, 
produces  a  peculiar  isolation  of  type  within  itself; 
a  self-development,  a  self-discovery  in  individuals. 
.  .  .  The  Englishman  of  the  upper  class  who  is 


THE  UNIVERSITY  259 

destined  to  attain  the  highest  places  in  his  career, 
and  therefore  to  influence  his  generation  in  some 
degree,  pushes  to  the  uttermost  extreme  passion 
for  private  experience,  private  adventure,  and  the 
private  solutions  of  the  problems  around  him. 
He  pursues  .  .  .  throughout  life  that  eccentricity 
or  search  vi^hich  distinguishes  the  youth  of  the 
middle  class  in  the  universities  of  other  countries." 
Mr.  Belloc  might  have  added  to  the  last  sentence, 
"  except  of  the  United  States."  The  English- 
man must  understand,  therefore,  that  subtle  con- 
trasts of  social  temperament  affect  the  American 
universities.  Where  differentiation  of  individuals 
occurs,  as  the  mark  of  efficiency,  and  this  of  neces- 
sity —  namely,  in  the  universities  and,  to  a  less 
degree,  in  the  secondary  schools, —  there  precisely 
American  differentia  becomes  most  apparent  and, 
many  would  add,  American  weakness.  By  a  si- 
lent process,  which,  of  course,  only  a  small  mi- 
nority of  native  Americans  note,  plans  are  culti- 
vated that  fit  men  to  serve  society  In  practical  pur- 
suits; on  the  other  hand,  plans  calculated  to  help 
men  to  become  their  distinctive  selves  are  omitted, 
perhaps  frowned  upon.  No  other  interpretation 
can  be  put  upon  the  following  phenomena.  The 
disproportion  of  girls  among  those  who  complete 
the  high  school  course;  the  increasing  proportion 
of  women  in  the  teaching  profession;  the  supe- 
riority of  scientific  and  especially  professional  as 


26o         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

compared  with  literary  training  in  the  institutions 
of  the  higher  education,  and  the  will  to  spend  so 
much  more  money  upon  its  needs;  the  efficiency  of 
the  crafts,  judging  by  their  human  products,  as 
contrasted  with  the  mediocrity  of  scholarship, 
literature,  art,  and  philosophy;  the  comparative 
futility  of  pure  science  in  face  of  the  startling 
triumphs  In  the  applied  branches,  to  which  such  an 
authoritative  publication  as  Science  Is  ever  re- 
turning. Americans  point  with  legitimate  pride 
to  their  Edisons,  Westinghouses  and  Brushes;  but 
when  it  comes  to  Kelvin  and  Rayleigh  and  J.  J. 
Thomson  and  Larmor  and  Ramsay  and  Ruther- 
ford, they  can  show  only  an  occasional  Rowland. 
All  this  Is  no  accident,  but  the  most  meaningful 
consequence  of  a  diffused  and  deep-seated  cause, 
flesh  of  the  flesh  of  the  whole  sociological  evolu- 
tion. As  the  Mosely  Commission  said:  '*  On 
buildings  and  equipment  the  expenditure  is  lavish; 
unfortunately  there  is  too  often  undue  parsimony 
in  the  far  more  important  matter  of  salaries,  and 
the  supply  of  adequately  equipped  teachers  who  in- 
tend to  stick  to  the  profession  is  very  insufficient.'* 
Even  more  serious,  "  exceptional  ability  is 
hardly,  if  at  all,  recognised."  The  fact  is,  one 
can  trace  a  dislike  or  suspicion  of  any  human  ma- 
terial which,  unusual  in  spiritual  efficiency,  is 
bound  by  Its  very  existence  to  constitute  a  criticism 
upon  the  average  man.     And,  by  a  process  of 


THE  UNIVERSITY  261 

selection,  the  system  of  education  eschews  precisely 
this  product.  Not  without  compensation,  how- 
ever. 

Under  the  conditions  I  have  attempted  to  de- 
scribe, the  Englishman  will  see  at  once  that  the 
university  in  the  United  States  is  a  popular  insti- 
tution to  a  degree  unknown,  perhaps  impossible, 
in  England  or  even  Scotland,  the  severe  entrance 
examination  having  transformed  the  once  char- 
acter of  the  northern  universities.  Now,  one  of 
the  most  noteworthy  and  symptomatic  facts  of  con- 
temporary life  in  the  United  States  centres  in  the 
rush  to  the  universities.  The  statistics  are  aston- 
ishing. The  present  enrollment  of  the  fourteen 
great  universities  is  62,196;  omitting  the  three 
small  Institutions,  it  Is  57,948,  an  average  of 
5,268.  Seven  years  ago  the  respective  figures 
were:  42,291;  39,793  5  the  average  3,608. 
While  in  1897  the  figures  read:  27,712;  24,972; 
and  the  average  2,270.  The  present  average  at- 
tendance at  the  four  largest  universities  is  6,236; 
seven  years  ago  It  was  4,505;  In  1897  it  was 
2,643.  Needless  to  say.  In  view  of  the  hints 
thrown  out  above,  the  most  striking  Increase  per- 
tains to  the  professional  schools,  especially  law 
and  engineering.  In  1897,  my  own  university 
had  275  students  In  engineering,  575  in  law. 
Late  figures  show  1,243  In  the  former,  902  In  the 
latter.     In  the  same  period  the  Arts  faculty  rose 


262         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

from  1,269  to  1,895,  ^  growth  by  no  means  com- 
mensurate, and  affected  not  a  little  by  the  presence 
of  the  *'  joint-course  "  professional  students.  It 
were  superfluous  to  indicate  that  these  phenomena 
influence  the  spirit  of  a  university  profoundly;  the 
humanist  is  fighting  nigh  for  his  life.  Besides, 
the  Englishman  must  try  to  understand  that, 
Honours  being  absent,  the  Arts  degree  offers  no 
such  rosy  gateway  to  life  in  the  United  States  as 
in  the  Motherland.  In  England,  a  graduate  in 
high  honours  already  has  his  foot  on  the  first  rung 
of  several  ladders.  The  learned  professions, 
pure  science,  the  careers  of  diplomacy  or  politics, 
the  government  Services,  the  Indian  Civil,  and  the 
like,  afford  spheres  where  a  good  degree  counts 
for  righteousness.  Special  distinction  renders  a 
favourable  start  sure,  while  distinction  determines 
the  direction  whither  a  hopeful  beginning  may  be 
made.  Why?  Just  because  a  high  degree  im- 
plies, almost  guarantees,  a  definite  type  of  man. 
Nothing  of  the  sort  can  happen  in  the  United 
States,  mainly,  perhaps,  because  the  A.B.  is  "  the 
night  in  which  all  cows  are  black."  Brand  the 
best  scholar  and  the  worst  dunce  with  the  same 
mark;  you  must  take  the  consequence  —  you  can- 
not know  the  "  mavericks." 

At  the  same  time,  a  *'  college  education  "  does 
possess    an    indefinable    social    value.     Wherein 


THE  UNIVERSITY  263 

this  consists  may  be  felt  more  readily  than  de- 
scribed in  good  set  terms.  When  —  especially  in 
some  coulisses  de  societe  —  an  Englishman  men- 
tions casually,  '*  I  was  at  Oxford  with  Blank,"  in- 
dicating this  or  that  cabinet  minister  or  prominent 
personage,  something  immediately  stands  to  his 
credit.  If  you  can  imagine  a  vague  and  faint 
reproduction  of  this,  divested  completely  of  impli- 
cations of  social  status,  and  having  reference,  not 
so  much  to  a  class  or  '  set '  as  to  the  entire  body 
politic,  you  may  obtain  a  shadowy  idea  of  the 
value  of  a  "  college  education  "  in  the  eyes  of  the 
average  American.  As  I  sense  the  matter,  it  im- 
plies that  university  graduates  tend  to  gravitate  to 
the  '  directing  '  classes,  and  also  that  they  often 
represent  some  of  the  best  moralising  influences  in 
the  civic  life  of  the  day.  Or,  yet  again,  their  ad- 
vantage is  symptomatic  of  the  zeal  for  education 
which,  after  a  kind,  marks  the  American,  just  as 
the  Englishman  thinks  of  It  as  a  Scottish  character- 
istic, although  he  attaches  small  '  social '  value  to 
an  Aberdeen  degree.  Like  this,  the  American 
degree  bears  no  stamp  of  social  superiority,  but  it 
induces  respect  and,  sometimes,  expectancy.  At 
the  same  time.  Its  worth  Is  general,  never  specific. 
For  the  A.B.  lacks  utterly  the  prestige  attaching 
to  a  high  Honour  degree  in  Britain.  It  may 
mean  something,  no  doubt,  but  this  something  may 


2^4         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

turn  out  anything.  It  will  be  objected  here,  and 
properly,  that  "  anything "  is  synonymous  with 
nothing. 

We  may  ask,  accordingly,  Is  it  possible  to 
assign  specific  causes  for  the  value  attached  to 
a  "college  education"?  I  am  inclined  to  think 
not.  The  reference  must  be  rather  to  the  main 
drift  of  society  as  it  reflects  the  attitude  of  the  uni- 
versal middle  class  that  is  so  prominent  the 
United  States  over.  This  is  an  elusive  cause,  un- 
questionably, but  the  real  one  nevertheless. 
Americans  may  claim,  without  fear  of  contradic- 
tion, that  in  their  common  schools,  technical  in- 
stitutes, engineering,  medical,  legal,  agricultural, 
mining,  and  cognate  university  departments,  they 
supply  to  the  whole  body  of  the  people,  none  be- 
ing in  any  way  excepted,  a  kind  of  preparation  that 
fits  men  in  an  admirable  manner  for  the  work  ex- 
acted by  their  geographical  environment  and  civil 
conditions.  The  development  of  the  material  re- 
sources of  the  United  States  since  the  Civil  War 
amounts  to  a  miracle.  And  the  educational 
scheme  concentrates  itself  upon  rendering  the 
same  development  more  rapid  and  much  more  in- 
tensive within  the  coming  years.  Europe  begins 
to  study  the  situation,  partly  because  these  traits 
are  present,  partly  because  success  has  ensued, 
partly  because  the  resources  constituting  the  point 
of   attack   are    endless;    even   Americans   hardly 


d 


THE  UNIVERSITY  265 

realise  that  their  country  is  but  scratched.  Thus, 
in  a  word,  American  higher  education  represents 
an  amazing  achievement  In  so  far  as  It  nourishes 
the  body  of  life,  an  achievement  the  more 
splendid  on  account  of  its  national  or  popular 
availability.  This  holds  especially  with  respect  to 
the  State  universities,  from  Michigan  westward. 
"  The  whole  thing  Is  Intensely  practical  —  pos- 
sibly too  practical  for  the  retention  of  a  high 
standard  of  liberal  education  and  traditions  of 
culture ;  for  the  pressure  of  commercial  life  seems 
to  be  driving  the  universities  to  shorten  or  whittle 
down  the  academic  and  literary  side  of  their  train- 
ing. To  the  outsider  it  seems  as  if  some  of  the 
universities  and  colleges  were  trying  to  do  too 
many  things  In  too  great  a  hurry,  without  taking 
pains  to  define  and  consolidate  the  foundations  of 
liberal  culture  which  a  university  training  is  usu- 
ally supposed  to  guarantee.*'  As  a  consequence, 
university  men  are  seldom  so  differentiated  from 
the  masses  as  to  turn  popular  prejudices  topsy- 
turvy. They  do  not  '*  behave  themselves 
strangely,"  to  adopt  Lander^s  phrase,  nor  exasper- 
ate by  exacting  a  standard  too  high  for  the  *  com- 
mon '  man,  or  quite  beyond  his  horizon.  Hence 
the  university  hall-mark,  being  *'  of  and  from  '* 
the  people,  acquires  a  certain  significance  unfamil- 
iar in  England.  Because  the  universities  "pro- 
vide fairly  well  for  the  Intellectual  needs  of  the 


266         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

average  citizen,"  and  "  hardly  enough  for  the 
training  of  special  ability,"  they  are  rehearsals 
of  life,  and  therefore  come  to  be  taken  at  their 
word.  The  graduate  finds  a  place  easily,  but  not 
a  special  place.  He  achieves  better  than  his  fel- 
low who  has  not  had  "  the  advantage  of  a  college 
education."  But  he  achieves  as  his  fellow,  not  in 
other  pursuits  which  presuppose  something  dis- 
tinctive and  to  be  obtained  only  in  the  academic 
halls.  In  brief,  the  gregariousness  of  the  A.B. 
Is  the  root  of  his  —  and  its  —  prestige !  Statistics 
show  that  the  "  college  "  graduate  adds  to  the 
period  of  individual  productiveness,  and  that  he 
increases  public  happiness.  And  as  the  public  is 
intent  precisely  upon  material  productiveness  and 
upon  happiness,  it  tends  to  appreciate  the  mani- 
fest advantages  of  the  higher  education  which 
favours  these  results.  Or,  to  use  a  phrase  con- 
stantly upon  the  lips  of  administrators  the  uni- 
versity, through  its  graduates  is  "  the  great  asset 
of  the  commonwealth."  As  an  Item  on  the  bal- 
ance sheet,  an  Item  which  all  can  grasp,  the  de- 
gree carries  clear  value.  So  much  for  the  pass- 
man. 

I  must  not  conclude,  however,  without  refer- 
ence to  that  part  of  the  university  organisation 
unexampled  In  Britain,  I  mean  the  "  Graduate 
School,"  and  the  "  Higher  Degrees."  Just  as 
the  early  college  was  a  reproduction  of  a  single 


THE  UNIVERSITY  267 

Oxford  or  Cambridge  college  of  that  day,  so  the 
modern  Graduate  School  may  be  called  a  repro- 
duction of  the  German  university;  at  all  events, 
German  methods  rule  it,  not  English.  It  is  the 
machine  for  the  preparation  of  specialists  — 
scholars  and  scientific  men.  After  graduation,  the 
A.B.  may  proceed  to  an  A.M.  at  the  end  of  one 
year,  or  to  a  Ph.D.  at  the  end  of  three  years'  far- 
ther residence  and  study.  The  Master's  degree 
may  be  dismissed — at  present  it  has  not  found 
its  function.  But  the  Ph.D.  enjoys  decided  rank, 
because  it  has  become,  and  tends  to  be  more  and 
more  the  conventional  path  to  appointment  on  a 
college  or  university  stafF.  Its  qualities,  like  its 
defects,  are  traceable  to  Its  'commercial'  value; 
"  I  need  it  in  my  business,"  as  one  of  my  students 
said  to  me  a  few  weeks  ago.  The  method  is  this. 
Having  proven  his  competence  or  discovered  his 
bent  in  the  A.B.  course,  the  candidate  selects  a 
major  study  in  the  graduate  school;  with  this  one 
or  two  minor  studies  are  associated.  As  a  rule 
the  subjects  are  more  or  less  closely  cognate. 
This,  for  instance,  is  a  common  case  in  my  own 
experience:  candidates  for  a  doctorate,  with  a 
major  In  Greek  or  Latin,  tend  to  take  Latin  or 
Greek  as  their  first,  and  ancient  philosophy  as 
their  second,  minor.  The  actual  work  proceeds 
on  the  German  Seminar  model,  and  ought  to  be 
under  the  direction  of  the  ablest  and  most  experi- 


268         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

enced  scholars  on  the  staff.  The  ideal  Is  not  so 
much  to  impart  information  as  to  develop  original 
research.  Very  likely,  in  many  cases,  this  re- 
mains, and  must  remain,  an  ideal.  In  the  second 
year,  the  candidate  adopts  an  approved  subject  for 
a  thesis,  on  which  considerable  stress  is  laid.  It  is 
expected  that  he  will  here  make  a  first-hand  con- 
tribution to  learning  or  discovery,  however  slight. 
The  thesis  is  presented  and  adjudicated  towards 
the  end  of  the  third  year  of  post-graduate  study, 
and,  if  accepted,  the  candidate  may  then  proceed 
to  examination.  The  examination  is  oral,  as  a 
rule,  although  certain  departments  exact  a  pre- 
liminary written  test.  All  things  considered,  it 
may  be  viewed  as  a  remnant  of  the  mediaeval  dis- 
putatio.  In  the  case  of  the  smaller  colleges  gen- 
erally, and  often  in  that  of  universities  of  the  sec- 
ond rank,  the  candidate  quits  his  alma  mater,  and 
proceeds  to  one  of  the  great  universities,  where 
facilities  are  superior;  oftentimes  he  goes  abroad, 
commonly  to  Germany.  Migration  from  uni- 
versity to  university  does  not  take  place  in  Amer- 
ica as  in  Germany  during  the  period  of 
graduate  study,  however.  Whether  a  bachelor 
can  be  received  as  a  supplicant  for  the  doctorate 
depends  on  the  grade  of  Institution  whence  he 
came;  and  some  universities,  like  my  own,  will  ac- 
cept no  '  foreign '  A.B.  as  a  candidate  for  the 
Ph.D.  till  he  has  proved  himself  by  one  year  of 


THE  UNIVERSITY  269 

residence  and  trial.  Englishmen  who  have 
studied  in  Germany  will  understand  at  once  the 
methods  and  ends  of  the  Graduate  School. 
Those  who  have  not  enjoyed  this  experience  will 
sense  the  situation  with  difficulty.  They  might, 
no  doubt,  as  they  sometimes  do,  compare  the 
Ph.D.  with  the  B.A.  in  Honours.  But  one 
great  difference  is  written  large  everywhere. 
Taking  my  own  experience:  I  have  seldom  ex- 
amined a  Ph.D.  candidate  who  commanded  such 
a  store  of  learning  as  the  good  English  or  Scots 
first-class  man,  and,  only  once,  an  examinee  who 
could  set  forth  his  knowledge  with  similar  ele- 
gance or  even  skill.  Farther,  the  oral  examina- 
tion is  neither  so  severe  and  sustained  nor  so  wide 
in  range  and  thorough  as  a  British  Honours 
school.  On  the  other  hand,  an  American  of  equal 
ability  with  the  British  first-class  man  is  rather 
more  likely  to  become  a  contributor  to  the  ad- 
vance of  knowledge,  especially  in  some  of  the 
laboratory  sciences,  because  a  very  different  en- 
vironment surrounds  him.  He  is  never  a  **  com- 
petition wallah,"  to  use  Sir  George  Trevelyan^s 
phrase,  but  studies,  or  should  be  taught  to  study, 
purely  for  the  sake  of  mastery  in  his  subject,  and 
with  a  conscious  endeavour  after  productive 
scholarship.  The  aim  of  his  teachers  is  to  place 
him  in  a  position  of  independence,  whence  he  can 
review  the  field  for  himself.     Without  doubt  the 


270         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

Graduate  School  sometimes  falls  lamentably  short 
of  these  ends;  and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  it  will  con- 
tinue to  do  so  until  a  more  systematised  and  severe 
preliminary  requirement  comes  into  general  force. 
If  the  American  universities  were  to  grade  their 
bachelors,  and  permit  only  those  of  the  first  rank 
to  enter  the  Graduate  School,  then  the  value  of 
the  preparation  presupposed  would  become  en- 
hanced immensely.  The  present  weakness  of  the 
doctorate  course  arises  from  the  haphazard  supply 
of  human  material.  Within  the  universities 
themselves,  it  is  occasionally  regarded  as  a  luxury, 
or  as  a  mere  appanage,  and  not  as  the  university 
course  par  excellence,  which  happens  to  be  Its  real 
purport,  as  it  should  be  its  actual  status.  It  is 
also  most  desirable,  if  not  altogether  indispen- 
sable, that  the  doctorate  itself  should  be  graded, 
as  in  Germany.  To  place  all  doctors,  good,  bad 
and  indifferent,  on  the  same  level  constitutes  an 
unfortunate  error,  and  tends  to  bring  the  degree 
into  disrepute.  A  specialist  should  stand  forth 
stamped  at  his  precise  worth.  For,  the  degree  Is 
not,  as  so  many  view  it,  an  end  in  Itself,  but  simply 
a  token. 

In  conclusion.  It  may  be  remarked  that  the 
United  States  has  not  yet  evolved  a  distinctively 
native  university  organisation,  developed  from 
her  peculiar  conditions  and  needs  without  reference 
to  foreign  models.     At  present  a  period  of  rapid 


THE  UNIVERSITY  271 

transition  prevails,  and  the  end  no  man  can  tell  or 
dare  prophesy.  Still,  one  problem  looms  so  large 
that  It  begins  to  compel  attention.  There  is  abso- 
lutely no  reason  why  the  American  university 
should  not,  In  the  future  as  In  the  past,  supply  the 
masses  of  the  people  with  good  general  oppor- 
tunities. Indeed,  to  divert  It  from  this  service 
would  be  perilous  in  the  extreme.  But  most  ap- 
posite reasons  exist  why  the  system  of  training 
should  be  overhauled,  particularly  in  the  humani- 
ties. It  Is  necessary  beyond  all  else,  to  furnish 
definite  provision  for  the  discovery  and  nurture 
of  exceptional  talent,  and  to  stamp  this  as  the  dis- 
tinctive product  of  the  Mother  Faculty.  The 
English  universities  have  contrived  to  accomplish 
this  far  more  effectively,  and  for  two  causes. 
First,  they  possess  the  Honours  system,  which 
everywhere  differentiates  ability.  Second,  their 
conventions  proceed  from  a  dominant  social  group 
to  whose  amplitude  of  spirit,  in  the  matter  of 
personal  culture,  American  Institutions  offer 
hardly  any  parallel.  The  American  problem  Is 
to  continue  to  serve  the  average  man,  and  to  find 
and  train  the  exceptional  personality  —  to  de- 
velop a  new  level  of  culture.  The  same  methods 
as  the  British  are  impracticable,  without  doubt. 
But  the  university  In  the  United  States  Is  perfectly 
well  able  to  evolve  Its  own  means  to  Its  own  salva- 
tion.    The  cure  depends  upon  courage  and  Insight 


272         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

to  detect  present  ailments.  And  the  men  who 
fight  this  battle  through  will  serve  themselves  the 
greatest  benefactors  American  education  has  seen 
since  the  Puritan  forefathers,  who  laid  the  founda- 
tions broad  and  sure  in  the  lives  of  the  folk.  The 
necessity  is  to  breed  humane  beings.  The  cry  for 
men  to  direct  trades  has  been  upon  the  United 
States  for  a  generation;  the  yearning  for  masters 
to  mediate  life  must  follow  —  all  history  wit- 
nesses this  surety.  But,  be  this  as  it  may.  It  must 
be  plain  to  the  English  that  the  university  in  the 
United  States  presents  a  complication  of  features 
quite  unfamiliar  to  them;  that  it  may  be  misunder- 
stood easily  in  general  conversation;  and  that  it 
is  not  to  be  grasped  after  a  few  weeks'  rush  over 
the  continent.  Immense  drafts  of  energy,  as  of 
money,  are  being  enlisted  in  the  evolution  of  the 
great  universities,  and  another  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury will  see  profound  changes.  Indeed,  the  dif- 
ficulty of  my  subject  resides  here.  So  rapid  and 
manifold  are  transitions  in  the  United  States  that 
what  is  true  to-day  may  be  false  to-morrow,  and 
what  holds  for  one  part  of  the  continent  may  be 
inapplicable  completely  to  another.  "  The  Land 
of  Contrasts  "  baffles  synoptic  presentation. 

It  needs  no  prophet,  however,  to  speak  a  def- 
inite word  about  the  future.  Not  long  since  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  receiving  an  expert,  sent  by  the 
German  Government,  to  investigate  the  universi- 


THE  UNIVERSITY  273 

ties  of  the  United  States.  He  remarked  that  men 
were  apt  to  be  about  thirty  years  behind  the  times 
in  their  average  conceptions  of  foreign  institu- 
tions. In  Germany,  he  continued,  we  hear  some- 
times of  Harvard  and  Columbia  and  Chicago,  but 
no  one  has  any  conception  of  universities  like 
Michigan  and  Illinois  —  their  magnitude  and 
resources  are  uncomprehended.  Little  wonder, 
one  may  Interpolate.  Twenty  years  ago,  the  total 
income  of  the  two  universities  was  about  equal  to 
the  present  budget  of  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh—  £95,000:  to-day,  it  presses  hard  upon 
the  combined  annual  resources  of  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  —  reaching  no  less  than  £785,000! 
My  colleagues,  he  went  on,  will  hardly  believe 
me  when  I  return  and  tell  them  that  I  found  sev- 
eral German  books  in  your  library,  on  a  special 
subject  now  engaging  my  attention,  which  I  could 
not  obtain  at  home.  Little  wonder,  one  may  in- 
terpolate again.  Twenty  years  ago,  the  number 
of  volumes  In  the  Michigan  and  Illinois  libraries 
was  but  108,000;  to-day,  the  total  reaches 
600,000 1  The  Michigan  librarian  records,  in  a 
recent  report  to  the  Regents,  that  the  library  has 
doubled  during  his  incumbency,  which  covers  a  dec- 
ade only  I  The  moral  is,  that  for  twenty  years 
past,  the  great  American  universities  have  been 
laying  deep  foundations.  And  when  certain  diffi- 
culties, due  mainly  to  over-lapping,  are  removed 


274         THE  ANARCHIST  IDEAL 

from  the  educational  system,  it  Is  safe  to  say  that 
"  the  University  in  the  United  States  "  will  chal- 
lenge, possibly  —  I  think  probably  —  lead  the 
world.  The  uneasiness  of  the  American  in  his  edu- 
cational Zion  augurs  wonderful  advances  to  come. 
Troubled  by  this  spirit,  many  scholars  would  be 
less  pessimistic  about  the  immediate  future  were 
they  and  their  colleagues  delivered  from  three  be- 
setting sins,  as  they  deem  them.  They  recognise 
that  they  are  required  to  teach  too  much,  that  the 
grad-grind  of  routine  is  apt  to  dull  them.  Thanks 
to  certain  national  tendencies  of  civil  life,  repro- 
duced in  academic  government,  politics  absorb  and 
cannot  well  be  escaped  —  and  university  politics 
were  ever  unfriendly  to  intellectual  achievement. 
Finally,  they  are  under  continuous  pressure  to  con- 
struct nice  text-books  that  have  no  particular  sig- 
nificance for  the  advancement  of  knowledge,  and 
often  foster  baseless  self-satisfaction.  The  more 
widespread  the  consciousness  of  these  limitations, 
—  and  it  grows  apace, —  the  greater  the  propor- 
tion of  Influential  men  who  recoil  from  Beau- 
marchais'  cynical  advice,  Mediocre  et  rampant,  et 
Von  arrive  a  tout. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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